Utu
by Mc Parrot
Summary: Mulder takes Scully to NZ on holiday, but of course they can't keep away from trouble. Mulder gets injured, solves a murder case and finally gets around to telling Scully about his worst secret. Not the holiday he planned. Warning: discussion of rape.
1. Chapter 1

**Utu**

An X Files novel

Okay, I got asked to post this here. It was originally written back around 2000/2001, not quite sure. Based after Mulder's time in the mental hospital when Scully found the space ship, (? season 6) but has absolutely nothing to do with that except that Mulder's health is still a little fragile.

Mulder torture abounds - quite a lot of vomiting, sorry about that. Hurt/comfort, definitely for shippers. Sex in there near the very end. Profiler Mulder.

A murder mystery who dunnit. Mulder and Scully travel to New Zealand for a holiday but being who they are they can't keep out of trouble and they can't help getting involved in a murder case. They also end up baby sitting two teenage boys. Definitely not the holiday Mulder was hoping for.

Usual disclaimers, not mine, I did put them back when i'd finished with them and I don't think anyone ever missed them.

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Wellington High Court Wellington High Court

New Zealand

Court Room One

Wed 14 July 1999

Judge Pita McIlhenney presiding

The courtroom was packed for the verdict. After three long months of claims and counterclaims, scientific evidence and raw emotion, the arguments had been rounded up and presented, either slanted for or against the accused. The judge, a tall, distinguished Maori man, had advised the jury to ignore their natural "gut instincts" and to concentrate only on the facts presented. Whether they had or not would be a secret that would remain forever in the jury room. Now, after a surprisingly short one and a half days of deliberation the jury was back.

Jury foreperson Gillian Cashel stood self consciously in front of the microphone. The eyes of everyone in the country were upon her. TV cameras focused on her. The judge, the rest of the jury, the families of the murdered children, the lawyers and their minions, the public that had squeezed in until it was standing room only, the family of the accused, even the accused who had avoided looking at the jury for the entire trial, all were looking at her, awaiting her words. Only one man wasn't, a man in an ill fitting borrowed jacket and new for the occasion shoes. He had eyes only for his lover, but Gillian didn't notice him.

'On the charge of the murder of Benjamin Daniel Dales, do you find the accused, Simon Peter Lewis, guilty or not guilty?' Judge McIlhenney's voice was dark and deep, much like it's owner.

Gillian cleared her throat and prayed she wouldn't squeak. She straightened and turned her eyes to Lewis. 'Guilty,' she said.

'And on the charge of the murder of Angela Kathryn Burke, do you find the accused, Simon Peter Lewis, guilty or not guilty?'

'Guilty your honour.'

The crowd let out its collective breath, Gillian sagged and sat down. It would be so good to go home tonight and start to try to forget this.

The Burke and Dales families were smiling through their tears. Lewis and his family looked completely shocked, they had never believed they would get a conviction. The police officers that had been involved were giving surreptitious high fives and trying to squash their smiles. The man in the borrowed jacket ducked his head to hide his tears and started fighting his way from the room. No one noticed him go, not even the senior police officer he bumped into as the judge pounded his gavel for order.

J Edgar Hoover Building

Washington

Mon Nov 1st

11.15 am

Scully's gamut of emotions was just about to rise from "mild concern" to "worry". She checked her watch again. Okay, she'd leave it till lunchtime and if he still wasn't here then she'd hit "very worried" and start instigating MSR, Mulder Search and Rescue.

She'd spoken to him on the phone last night and he'd sounded fine. He'd even said, "See you at work in the morning." Maybe if he hadn't said that she wouldn't be quite so worried, okay, concerned, but even so, 11.30 and no Mulder. It wasn't right. But she couldn't quite bring herself to get too worked up, him not being here was odd, but the MAD, Mulder Alert Device in her head wasn't ringing and she'd learnt long ago to listen for that.

Then she heard the elevator descending and hurriedly grabbed the nearest file and pretended to be reading. Mulder bounced into the office in such a state of sheer energised excitement that Scully dropped her pretence and stared at him. What the hell was up? She hadn't seen him like this in years. A little pang followed the thought.

'Mulder?' she asked cautiously.

'Scully,' he beamed. He threw a plastic shopping bag on his desk. 'How much vacation time have you got?'

'About the same as you I imagine. Since we never take vacations, it's probably got up to six months by now.'

'Nearly twelve weeks actually.'

'Okaay. Am I guessing you want to go on holiday?'

'Yep.' He grinned and she couldn't help herself, she smiled back.

'Where?'

He grabbed a handful of brochures from his bag, fumbled for the right one and found the page he wanted. He handed it over with a flourish. 'Here.'

She took the brochure expecting palm trees and hula girls and was puzzled by what she saw. The brochure was open on a full-page photograph of what looked like somewhere in Alaska. Taken from a boat, there was a blue, blue sea with fishing boats, but beyond the coast line dramatic mountains rose to the sky. She read the name, Kaikoura. She couldn't even say it. The colour wasn't right for Alaska somehow. 'Mulder, where is this?'

'New Zealand. Isn't it beautiful? Whales come in just off shore and you can swim with them. It's dramatic isn't it?' He rushed on before she could say anything else, leaning over her shoulder and turning pages.

'The whole country is fabulous,' allowing her a brief glimpse of forests, golden beaches and mountains. 'We could hire a car and...' he tailed off. 'It's quite small.' He watched her nervously. 'President Clinton went there for that APEC conference, he liked it.' She was chewing her fingers, this didn't look good. 'It's in the Pacific. Beside Australia.'

'I know where it is,' she said. She turned that hard blue stare on him. 'Why?' She could already guess. It was the other side of the world and thousands of miles from the shitty happenings in their lives here.

'Because it's beautiful and I've always wanted to go there.'

Good answer but she wasn't ready to let him away with it yet. Her eyebrow raised. 'There are plenty of beautiful places much closer to home. You'll have to do better than that.'

'It's summer there. It would be warm.'

'So's Florida.' She relented a little and smiled at him. This happy mood was so rare she didn't want to squash it. 'Fess up Mulder. What's the real attraction?'

Silence.

'Mulder?'

He heaved a sigh. 'It's the whales. There are ocean currents moving up from Antarctica full of krill and phytoplankton. The whales follow them. They go right up the coast of the South Island and come right in close by this Kay place here,' he indicated the first picture he'd shown her. Good, she thought, he can't say it either. 'Every twenty three years or so there is a real build up of whales, three times as many as usual. No one knows why.' He glanced up to see how she was taking this. 'I'd really like to see it.'

'Uh huh. That's this year then?'

'Yes.'

'You've never been interested in whales before.'

'I am too. I'm interested in lots of things. You don't know everything about me.'

The little boy ploy. 'No, but I can read you quite well.'

He looked down at his desk and fiddled with his pencils. He took a deep breath and let the words flow out as if they didn't belong to him. 'UFOs have been observed over Kay whatsit at about twenty three year intervals.'

He'd broken three pencils before he dared look up. Scully had a huge grin on her face. When she saw him looking at her she snorted. Then she burst out laughing. 'Mulder you are priceless.' Her belly laughs died to hiccoughs. 'Whales and UFOs.' She sniggered. 'You want me to go half way around the world to look at whales. Whales that may or may not be communicating with UFOs.' She snorted again. 'On vacation. With you?'

She looked back at him and what she saw in his eyes nearly broke her heart. 'Please,' he said.

'Mulder.' Oh God. What do I do now? She stared at his stricken face. Why was this suddenly so important? Why did he suddenly want to go away when he never took vacations? More importantly, what did she want? Did flying half way around the world with Mulder sound like a good idea? 'I'd love to Mulder,' she said slowly. 'Really.'

'But?'

'I can't afford it. It would cost thousands, just for the air fare.'

'That's alright. I've got some money. I can pay for you.'

Mulder's mysterious money. We're going to have to go into that some time. 'I can't let you do that. Mulder you can't spend your money on me.'

'Why not. It's my money. I can do what I want with it. You're my friend, I want you to come. Don't worry, it won't leave me broke.'

We are definitely going to have to explore that subject later. He looked so apprehensive. He really does want this she realised. She glanced at the brochure, the implications rattling around in her mind. So what, she suddenly thought. We're friends, Mulder doesn't really have any other friends and he wants me to go on this crazy trip with him. She looked up and smiled. 'Okay. I'd like that. Thank you.' She was rewarded by a one hundred watt smile. The sort of smile that came so rarely she was never quite sure that she hadn't only imagined that he actually could smile like that. This really was important to him. 'But Mulder. I pay half of everything else. Okay?'

He swallowed and nodded. 'Yeah.'

'Oh, and Mulder, I'll choose the accommodation.'

He sniffed and looked up his eyes shining, a great smile settling across his face. 'Scully that's great. It'll be so good. I promise.' He swept over and lifted her from her chair, enveloping her in a massive hug. 'Oh Scully!' He buried his nose in her hair. 'that's great. It'll be great. Oh god, Scully.' He danced them in a little jig before he realised what he was doing. Embarrassed he let her go, hanging his head. 'Sorry.'

She positioned herself under his nose so he had to see her and smiled up. 'It will be lovely Mulder. When can we go?'

Washington DC

Mon 6th Dec

7.32am

Mulder sat in the back of the cab staring into the cold greyness of the early morning. One more time he ran over the list but he couldn't find anything he'd forgotten. He patted his pocket, passport, wallet, check; patted the bag he had for carry on luggage, yep, he would not check inside it again. All the same he opened it and peered in, magazines, sunflower seeds, sweets for Scully, indigestion things, eye drops, book, toothbrush and razor, little box. Oh God. What if she's changed her mind? Did I turn the iron off? Yes, I'm sure I did. She was having lunch with her mother yesterday. What if she's got the guilts over not being with her family for Christmas? Oh please Lord, Fox Mulder prayed to the god he didn't believe in, let it be alright.

Mon 6th Dec

7.32

Scully paced by the door. He was late. He should have been here fifteen minutes ago. The cab must have been late. She knew leaving their cars in the garage at work was a dumb idea, even if it had seemed a good one at the time. Oh God she was so nervous.

Mulder was just so excited about this, he'd been on such a high since she had agreed to come. It was such a daft idea she still couldn't work out exactly why she had said yes. She didn't like the thought of him spending all that money on her, but his logic there was flawless, it was his money and he wanted to. It was so nice to see him happy. It had been so long since he'd smiled. God the last time she could remember had been when he'd tried to teach her to play baseball. And that was what? Nearly a year ago? No it couldn't be, that was in the summer. It certainly felt like that long. God knows it was probably the last time she'd really smiled as well. Except of course when he'd finally woken up after that brainstorm or whatever the hell that had been.

Christ, even three months later she couldn't think of that. Think about the holiday. Where was he?

It would be nice to spend a few weeks in the sun. It would be very nice to not have to be watching their backs, watching their steps and even watching their words. Hell, for once they would have a chance to be who they really were.

So Mulder could go stand on a mountain top and gaze at UFOs. Scully had done a little research of her own and she couldn't find any evidence of these particular sightings ever being more than an interesting light show. She didn't think Mulder could get into too much trouble there. And as for the whale angle? Well he could spend a happy few days talking to whoever had come up with the theory, but his inability to converse in whistles or whatever whales did would probably render too much investigation difficult. So what would she be doing while Mulder was doing this? That was easy, absolutely anything she wanted.

She knew the accommodation would be nice and she fully intended to relax and enjoy herself.

So what will you and Mulder do in the evenings a little voice niggled, when there's no case to discuss and he's worn out the topic of whales? Well that would probably be the greatest challenge. We may just have to kill each other. Now that was another plus with New Zealand, they couldn't carry their weapons.

She sighed. Even now she still wasn't sure this was a good idea. But just remember, she told herself, every time you've tried to go on holiday on your own you've hated it. You can't wait to get back to work. And be honest, it's not the work that's really calling is it. This trip is it. This trip is the chance to sort this out once and for all. Alone. Together. No holds barred.

It had hit her two days ago that they were really going. Not just that she and Mulder were going away but that she and Mulder were going away - together - overseas - for a whole month - on vacation. This wasn't just any old trip.

Panic set in. Unflappable Special Agent Dana Scully had panicked.

She had rung her mother who had been marvellous. They had spent the weekend shopping, after all, a special wardrobe was called for. If in doubt, shop. It worked for her. She eyed the suitcase on the floor, mentally inventorying the contents. Yes, it would do fine. What to wear on the flight had been a special problem. It was a very long trip. First they had to fly to LA, bad enough on it's own, but then it was another eleven hours to Christchurch, New Zealand. That's an awful long time to be over the sea the nervous flier in her noted. Jeeze Mulder, when you choose to go somewhere, you really go somewhere.

In the end she'd chosen stretch jeans, tapered to show off her legs and comfortable enough to sit in for a full 24 hours. She had a white tee shirt because it would be warm on the plane, and the crowning glory: a beautiful, soft, sky blue, woollen jacket. She had tried it on with her mother beside her and known it was hers. The fit was perfect, the drape superb but it was the colour that was special. Not only did the colour do something wonderful to her complexion, it was an exact match for her eyes. It was very expensive and she had let her mother buy it for her because they both understood it was a gift of love. Mulder would love it.

It was her mother that had brought home to her the importance of that. It was as they had hugged farewell yesterday and wished each other happy holidays. As her mother left she had turned to her daughter and caught her hand. 'When he asks you,' she said. 'You will say yes, won't you.' Dana had just gaped and smiling fondly her mother had driven away.

She thought about that now and was so overcome with nerves that she had to go back to the bathroom, again. And so when the taxi did toot, she wasn't quite ready and Mulder was standing nervously at the door about to knock when she opened it. He stood there taking in casual but beautiful Scully and he beamed. He reached for her case and took her hand. It was all going to be alright.

Christchurch Central Police Station

New Zealand

Wed 8th Dec

5.40pm

Detective Inspector Rod Stuart heaved a great sigh, tugged at a tuft of hair over his ear and brought his pen back to the page in front of him with such a frenzy of bad feeling he nearly tore a hole in it. He glanced at his watch again and then out the window, taking in the cloudless blue sky that was all he could see from this angle. He had originally seen it as a blessing to have finally reached a rank that conferred among other privileges, an office with a window. However, in the two years that he'd sat here, he'd often found it, more of a torture than a pleasure. At least hidden in the bowels of the building, the passing of time had seemed less distracting, less disturbing.

Detective Inspector Rod Stuart looked nothing like his famous near namesake. He did however bear a totally unknown resemblance to a certain Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI. Both men shared the same height and build. They were similar in age, and unfortunately, they had near identical patterns of baldness. This made Stuart's frustrated tugging at his hair a particularly dicey form of stress release.

Another glance at his watch and he shoved his chair back from his desk with explosive fury. He picked up the files remaining on his desk and shoved them into his briefcase. He'd deal to them tonight. No fuck, he took them back out and dropped them on the desk. What the hell difference was it going to make if he didn't see them until tomorrow. Rod found it astounding that in the middle of the investigation into a child's murder he should have to give estimates as to the number of overtime man hours required and a budget for the operation. Stuff it! He gave a wry laugh. No way he was taking that home. With rank comes something. He was going to be on time for his kids if it killed him.

He wrenched his tie off and shoved it in his pocket and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. Turning to the door he was stopped by a sound, a most irritating sound. The phone rang.

'Fuck!' He was held, stuck like a rabbit caught in a spotlight for at least three rings, as he debated picking it up. Oh shit. He snatched it up and sank onto the desk. 'Stuart,' he barked.

'Boss, it's Bob.'

Fuck, Stuart sagged. He was definitely going to be late now. Detective Constable Bob Hamilton couldn't string two thoughts together without coming up with a novel. 'Bob. You want me to tell your wife and kids you're going to be late for the Scout Barbecue. Right?'

'No.' The man sounded surprised. 'Well actually yes. Could you? I hadn't thought of that.'

Oh God, Stuart sighed. 'What do you want Bob?' Rod Stuart counted having Bob Hamilton living practically next door to him as one of the misfortunes of his life. They saw way too much of each other, both having children in the same classes at school and in the same scout group.

'I've got a surprise for you,' Hamilton told him.

'Bob. I'm late. I promised Davy I'd be there this time.' He should have known better than to protest.

'Bluey and I're at the hospital.'

Oh good. Fatal I hope.

'We're waiting to see if any of the victims from the incident on the LA flight are up to making statements yet. You know about that don't you Rod?'

Stuart racked his brains but couldn't honestly remember what it was about. He did remember some flap at the airport this morning but nothing had sunk in. 'Ah...' God. Get to the point.

'It's been all over the news boss.'

'I've been a little preoccupied with my own news worthy case,' he snapped. 'If you haven't noticed.'

'Exactly,' Bob exclaimed. 'That's why I'm ringing.'

Stuart yanked at his hair and watched a single cloud blank out the sun. 'Tell me,' he sighed, 'what you are talking about.'

'Well this morning, half way between LA and here this Jap guy decided to off his wife. He took to her with a pocket knife. Not a little swiss army job but a great big hunting thing, you know the sort? Blade about six inches long. The staff and some Yank tourists managed to grab him and subdue him. Quite a few people got hurt.'

Hell, Rod's brain was quite active enough to imaging a packed aircraft with a nutter going berserk with a knife. There wasn't exactly much room to run and dodge in economy class. 'Air New Zealand?' Stuart asked. How the hell had the guy got a knife on board anyway?

'Yep.'

'Shit. A right international incident. How come no one's brought it to me yet?'

'I dunno. Cashel's on it. No one's died yet. I guess he thinks you've got enough to do.'

Well that was true but someone should have made him aware of it. 'Why are you ringing Bob?'

'Well boss, you remember that course you went on in Australia last year?' Hamilton sounded excited. 'The one where you were doing stuff on profiling? Remember how you told us about this case in the States where you were given the same information as the investigators and you had to try to work it out yourselves.'

'Fuck Bob. Of course I remember.' I was the one there. And it wasn't like that anyway. They'd been given exercises based on real cases solved by effective profiling.

'Do you remember telling us about a case in Oklahoma and how you thought the FBI profiler was amazing.'

'Yeah.' You had to let Bob run on or you never got to the end of the tale.

'What was his name? It was something a bit odd wasn't it?'

Stuart thought but he couldn't quite come up with it. He knew he'd wake up in the night and remember.

Hamilton was nearly cackling with glee. 'It was Mulder wasn't it? Fox Mulder?'

'Right. So...?' Although he'd already worked out the answer.

'He's here boss. He's here. He's the Yank that stopped the Jap from taking his wife's face off. He's on vacation.'

A grin spread across the inspector's face but he struggled to keep his voice even. 'Is that right.'

'Yep, I've checked boss. He's FBI alright.'

'It could be someone else, that case was at least ten years ago.'

'With a name like that?'

'Right.' God, what luck. 'How is he? Is he alright?'

'Well , umm. No not really. He's in intensive care. His arm got slashed up quite badly and he nearly bled to death before they got here.'

'Shit.' Poor bastard. Rod wondered how he'd react in a similar situation. Could he watch someone attack people with a knife? Of course not. He knew he couldn't just sit there, but playing Good Samaritan didn't pay these days. 'Is he going to be okay?'

'They're not saying anything much yet. I don't know.'

'Is anyone with him?'

'There's a woman, I think she's his wife. She's got a different name though.' Stuart could hear pages fluttering. 'A Miss Scully. Guess what boss, she's FBI too.'

'Okay Bob. Thanks for letting me know. Make sure they're being looked after won't you.'

'Sure. You want me to go see her?'

'No!' Stuart's voice raised in alarm. 'She's just spent hours watching and wondering if he'll bleed to death, the last thing she needs is to talk to you.' It would never occur to Bob to take offence. 'No,' he pondered. ' I'll drop in and see them in the morning. Okay. Don't you go near them. Got it?'

'Yes boss. Uh..?'

'I'll tell Janine where you are. Now if I don't get to this bloody barbecue my kids will never talk to me again.'

'Boss?'

'What?'

'Merry Christmas.'

Stuart smiled. Fox Mulder huh, not a bad present. 'Yeah Bob. Thanks.' He sobered as he collected his things. If he survives.

Christchurch Arts Centre

Thurs 9th

11.15

Rod Stuart strolled down the street enjoying the fresh air and prolonging the walk. It was only two blocks from the Central Police Station to the hospital and he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. He focused on the people sitting under the umbrellas in the cafes, enjoying the outdoors but staying out of the sun. The temperature had already started to climb and the day promised to be a scorcher.

He watched the tram rumble past and amused himself by repeating the commentary he knew the driver would be giving to the tourists. But it wasn't working. His mind kept leaping back to the words on the piece of paper in his pocket and he felt a terrible sense of dread.

Time out, he told himself. Think of something else, but the only other "else" that came to mind was how familiar this walk was. He'd walked this way during breaks for nearly four months. Two years ago seemed like yesterday. He knew the route so well he knew it would take him only four minutes from office to hospital if he didn't have to stop to cross the roads and as long as ten minutes if he had to stop at all three streets he had to cross. Today was somewhere in between.

Then he was there. He entered the lobby and the familiar hospital smell caused his stomach to knot. He wondered at the wisdom of this visit.

He was distracted by the sight of a large crowd of news mongers apparently camped out by the coffee machine and realised that there was considerable media interest in this case. As far as he was aware, none of the major participants in the drama had yet spoken to the media. Passengers on the flight had described screams and rivers of blood, but the airline had forbidden its staff to talk and the injured passengers were guarded by a phalanx of hospital staff. He headed for the lift and saw the newspaper headline by the book shop. "Heroism at 33,000 Feet". Yes the media must be hanging out for interviews

Rod's finger automatically stabbed the button for the right floor.

He nodded to the constable who was guarding the entrance to the ICU ward and was gratified to see the man leap to his feet as he recognised his senior officer. The sights and sounds of the unit assaulted him and for a moment he was frozen, flashes of his small son, still and broken on the bed, all he could see. A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he turned as a familiar voice spoke his name.

'Alison.' Some good memories did come from this place. His smile was genuine. 'How are you? Good to see you.'

The attractive blond in green hospital scrubs smiled back. 'I'm great. You're looking good too.' She put her head to one side. 'A little tired though?'

'I've got a bit of a rough case at the moment.'

'The kid that went missing from the Santa Parade?'

Rod nodded and made a face. 'You still work here then?'

'Strange as it seems to you. I actually like working here. Oh, and look,' she held out her left hand. 'I finally got married.'

'That's great.' He searched for a name. 'Barry wasn't it?'

'Brian.' She beamed. 'A year ago now. How's Davy? I haven't forgotten him. He was a real fighter.'

A pang of memory struck Rod but he shook it off. 'He's great. He's doing really well. If you didn't know, you'd never guess. He's doing well at school too at last. He's got these real high tech hearing aids and he hasn't looked back. Here,' he dug in his wallet and pulled out a photograph. 'This was the boys, last Christmas at the Sounds. Davy's grown another six inches since then.'

She examined the photo and touched it gently. 'That's neat. It is so good to catch up with our successes. Would you mind, could I show this around?'

'No, that's fine.'

She straightened. 'Now you must be here on business are you? None of the airline passengers are able to speak yet and Miss Scully and Miss Smith already gave statements. Or was there someone else you needed to see?'

'It's not really business,' he admitted. 'I came to see Fox Mulder. I've heard of him, I admire his work. I just thought, well, they're alone here in a strange country. I just thought I'd drop by and see if there was any thing I could do to help.'

'You and half the country,' she sighed. 'The hospital has been inundated with gifts and pledges of this that and the other.'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Rod said. It had never occurred to him that his visit might be an imposition.

'Look, don't worry,' Alison put a staying hand on his arm. 'You're right. And there is something you can do.' She lowered her voice. 'Mulder's partner Dana hasn't left his side and she's exhausted. I can't imagine when she must have slept last. Apparently he suffered a major illness earlier in the year and nearly died. And whatever they do for the FBI is very dangerous. So this happening when they're on holiday and apparently safe. It's all too much. Plus,' Alison paused for effect, 'She's actually a medical doctor so she understands the implications of everything that has happened to him.'

'I thought she worked for the FBI?'

'She does. She's a pathologist.'

'Really.' That might be useful in about a week's time he thought grimly.

Alison resorted to feminine wiles and gave a beseeching gaze from under her fringe. 'She's very shocked and she isn't thinking straight. She says she won' t leave him but I think if someone actually picked her up and took her, she'd go. She desperately needs to sleep. Could you try?'

Damn. Rod was regretting this visit more by the minute. He really couldn't even afford the time to be here, wasn't quite sure why he was. It was something to do with the note in his pocket and the thought of what it could mean. This guy Mulder might just be able to pull the rabbit out of the hat, if he was a good as they said he was.

'Please,' Alison pleaded.

Rod never stood a chance. 'I'll try. But I really do need to get back to work soon.'

'Thanks.' A sunny smile was his reward. 'They're down in 3. He's my patient today.'

Thank God it wasn't Davy's place in cubicle 8 he thought as he followed her. 'How is he? Is he going to be okay?'

She paused. 'I think so. I'm picking so anyway and I've got pretty good at picking them over the years.' She'd picked Davy as a survivor too he remembered. 'He had serious injuries to his arm and a few other cuts. It took plastics hours to put things back together. His major problems now are all due to having had a low blood volume for a large amount of time. The body just can't handle that. If we can get his kidneys up and running soon he'll be okay.'

Rod looked quizzical. 'Thanks for telling me.'

She laughed. 'Oh for heavens sake. You are the one person I can trust not to pass information on to anyone.' She led the way into the cubicle.

Rod's attention was instantly taken by the sylibant hiss of the ventilator. Shit, that sound still haunted his dreams. He looked at the man on the bed, his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the machine. From his head to his toes Rod knew what all the tubes, wires and monitors were for. Amazing his mind told him. You can look at that bag of blood and know instantly that it is packed cells and not whole blood.

The patient was lying partially on his right side, propped with pillows. His left arm was heavily bandaged, only the tips of yellow betadine stained fingers showing. There were three drain tubes running out from under the bandages.

The guy looked paler than the sheets. He looked three parts dead. This bloke looked too young! No, he thought. This is the wrong guy. If Mulder was profiling for VICAP in the mid 80s, he has to be at least my age now. This guy doesn't look much past 30.

Then he looked at the woman who had been dosing, head on her arms on the bed. She lifted her golden head as Alison gently called her name, instantly glancing up the bed to check her partner. Alison's words to her sunk in and she looked up at Rod with unfocused eyes and suddenly started to attention when she saw him. Then her eyes focused and she stared at him and relaxed a little. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'I thought you were someone I knew.'

It didn't matter if this wasn't the right guy. What mattered was that this woman was a fellow law enforcement officer and Alison was right, she needed his help.

Dana Scully was also dressed in the green shift dress that all the female staff wore in the unit, but he wouldn't mistake her for staff. Not at the moment. The face she raised to him was grey and lined from fatigue and worry, her hair dirty and dishevelled although still a bright spot in the room. Rod was used to dealing with people in stress and this woman's look was classic.

Alison introduced them using Rod's full title and he watched as the American woman did something amazing. She straightened and from somewhere found a mask of professionalism that wrapped around her and settled on her face. She held out her hand and shook his, colleague to colleague, her eyes meeting his. This, Rod thought, is one tough lady.

'Inspector. I'm sorry. I don't think there is anything I can do for you. I've already given my statement yesterday and I really don't think I have anything more to add.'

She has a beautiful voice, Rod thought irreverently. Like treacle with just enough accent to be interesting. 'I'm sorry,' he said feeling embarrassed, 'this isn't an official visit.'

She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

'My office was made aware of your plight, and I just felt it would be appropriate...' God he sounded pompous. 'To see if you needed any help.' He waited to see how he'd be received but he knew he'd wrong footed it. Thank god he hadn't blurted out about her husband not being who he thought he was.

'As you can see,' the woman said, 'the hospital are doing everything they can.' She sounded professional but looked slightly disorientated. 'I don't really think there's anything any one else can do. Everyone is being very kind.'

'What about you?' Rod blurted out. 'Alison says you need to sleep. Why don't you come with me and I'll take you back to your hotel. Then I'll organise a car to bring you back here later.'

The mask slipped just a little. She looked desperately at the figure in the bed and reached out to hold his hand. 'Thank you,' she said, 'but I'd rather stay here.'

'Dana.' Alison put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'You need some sleep. You need to eat. And,' she wrinkled her nose, 'you need a wash. Mulder is quite stable, nothing is likely to happen and if it did we would ring you straight away.'

'And I could have a car bring you back here in minutes,' Rod jumped in.

'Go back to your hotel,' Alison continued. 'Please. Mulder will need you later when he wakes up. Right now, you need to look after you. I'll take care of him. I promise.'

The red head shut her eyes briefly, then gave a nod. She could see the sense in what Alison said.

'Good. That's good,' Rod murmured encouragingly. 'Tell Alison which hotel you're at so she can contact you if she has to, then pick up your things and we'll go.'

The mask slipped completely. 'I don't know,' she moaned in horror, hand to her mouth. 'I haven't a clue where we're supposed to be staying.'

Her hands flapped helplessly as she looked around for her bag. 'I've got it written down somewhere.' She noticed the green scrubs. 'I can't go into a hotel like this,' she panicked. 'I'd look like I escaped from somewhere. I have to check in and everything.' It all seemed much too hard. She was unravelling before their eyes. 'My clothes are ruined and I haven't got anything else. I don't know where our bags are.' She was crying out right now and Alison pulled her into her arms.

'She's right,' Rod said awkwardly as Alison shushed and soothed. 'She can't go to a hotel. Give me a minute,' he dug in his pocket for his phone. 'I'll call my wife and let her know, then I'll take her home. She can stay with us.'

'Rod,' Alison said quietly. 'You can't use that here. Phone from the desk please.' She smiled at him over the other woman's shoulder. 'Thanks.'

I've been done, Rod thought ruefully. She was after that all along.

- - - -

Ten minutes later Rod led a much calmer Scully down to the front entrance of the hospital. She was wearing a cardigan of Alison's over the green dress and carried her bloodstained clothing in a plastic bag. All I possess in the world she thought with a jolt of hysteria. The day outside was hot, but she was pleased of the cardigan. She felt near naked, striped of all the usual accessories of her life. No clothes, no gun, not even a hand bag.

She had no idea what had happened to their carry on luggage. As the plane had taxied into the terminal the ambulances were already lined up beside the airbridge. The passport officials had come on board with the ambulance staff but had been shoved aside and held at bay by the aircraft staff. Scully, busy transferring a seriously ill Mulder to the ambulance gurney hadn't given passports another thought.

The patients had been offloaded from the aircraft in one of the caterer's scissor trucks, loaded straight into the ambulances and with the three doctors, all passengers, who had been attending to them during the flight, whisked away.

A police car drew up at the door of the hospital, a young uniformed officer at the wheel. Rod guided her gently around to the passenger seat. She nearly resisted when he seemed to be taking her to the wrong side of the car. Then she remembered. She was in New Zealand and cars here were right hand drive. She really was in a foreign country.

'I'm sorry I can't take you myself,' he was apologising, 'but I really have to get back to work. Paula's expecting you. She'll look after you.'

He settled her in and gave the officer the address. 'I'll get someone on tracking down your luggage for you too. I don't want you to worry about it. Okay?'

'Okay?' she agreed.

Driving on the wrong side of the road completed Scully's disorientation. She couldn't seem to take in anything of the trip. She was aware of a city sliding past them, traffic lights, vehicles, suburbia, but she couldn't take anything in. It could have been a long ride or it could have been very short. But then they were driving through country side and she noticed that.

'Where are we?' she snapped. 'Where are we going?'

'Halswell,' the officer replied confused. 'That's right isn't it?' It was the first time his passenger had spoken and Darryl Somers was more concerned about her than he had been when she'd seemed not to hear him earlier. He had no idea why the boss had pulled him away from traffic duty to play taxi but he was starting to suspect this woman wasn't all there.

'16 Chatswood Terrace,' Somers said. 'Is that right?'

Scully blinked. Suburbia was now wrapped right around them again. 'I don't know,' she said quietly. 'I have no idea. It's Inspector Stuart's house.'

Shit, Somers hadn't realised that. Who the hell was this woman then? Did the inspector have insanity in his family closet?

Paula Stuart came to the door when she heard the car pull up. Somers dived around to open the passenger door, relieved to be rid of his charge.

He left with unseemly haste.

'Hi,' Paula smiled.

'Hi,' Scully said stupidly.

'Come in.' She held out her hand. The silence was awkward. 'Please, you're most welcome. Rod was very upset to think of you in a hotel alone.'

Scully took the offered hand and allowed herself to be led into the house. She blinked back tears. She felt like a small child. Her brain was completely numb, she could no longer take in anything. Her head was full of cotton wool. She was in another new place with a new person but she couldn't react. She couldn't think.

Paula was shocked. The American woman was completely spaced out. She didn't respond when spoken to, she didn't move unless led. Worried, she sat her down in the kitchen and tried to pull her rusty nursing training into play.

She checked her pulse, 80 beats a minute, that was fine; no fever, pupils were reacting. She seemed a little dehydrated but there didn't appear to be any physical reason for her catatonic state. She just looked grey and exhausted.

And that, thought Paula, smoothing Dana's hair back from her forehead, is probably the problem.

She gave Dana a glass of juice and when she drank it thirstily followed it with a second. 'Come on sweetheart,' Paula said. 'Let's get you to bed.'

- - - - -

Scully woke slowly. She needed to wake up, she knew that, but it took a huge effort. Slowly, like struggling through mud, she forced herself to consciousness. Dragging her eyes open she lay staring at a strange ceiling. Strange ceilings were nothing new but lightshades like hot air balloons were. Rolling her head sideways she took in curtains of navy blue with aeroplanes printed on them and walls covered in posters of aircraft, baby animals and a child's art work.

She had a head ache but nothing startling. She just didn't have any idea where she was.

There was daylight coming in between the curtains and her watch told her it was 12 o' clock but that didn't feel right. Struggling to sit up, she found her whole body ached and she gave up the effort. She knew there was something she needed to do but she couldn't think what. She hadn't been kidnapped, she was fairly certain of that, she had no sense of being under threat. She looked over towards the door to see it was ajar. Definitely not being kept prisoner then. Maybe if she slept some more she'd be able to work out why she was in bed in a child's bedroom in the middle of the day.

She dozed some more but the feeling that there was something important that she was missing wouldn't let her sleep. Moaning a little she sat up and discovered she was wearing a strange night gown. Her scalp felt itchy, her hair was dirty, and she was sure she could smell herself. Cleanliness was something she was always careful about. Being in bed dirty wasn't pleasant.

Then her eye caught something just inside the door, two suitcases, Mulder's and her own. Gasping she remembered it all. The packed plane, the man with the knife and all the blood! Mulder. Mulder bleeding! God Mulder was in the hospital. That's what she had to do. She had to get back to the hospital.

But where was she? She still didn't have the faintest idea.

There was a bathrobe draped across the foot of the bed and feeling like she'd been run over by a bus she struggled into it. How long had she been asleep? It felt like days. It also felt like she needed weeks more.

Scully parted the curtains to find herself looking at a trampoline in a back garden. There was a wooden fence smothered in roses. It was definitely day time, that was about all she could tell. Opening the door she stepped out into a hallway. She could hear quiet voices somewhere in the house.

On bare feet she padded out and found toilet and bathroom, which she used in that order. The dishevelled hag that stared at her from the bathroom mirror gave her a start and she washed her face and did her best to pat her hair into some sort of shape. She thought about going back to the bedroom and finding at least a comb, but the need to know where she was and what was happening to Mulder was too strong.

She followed the voices until she could see two people in the kitchen. Scully started in surprise. The man looked like... Then she remembered. She'd been dead on her feet at the hospital and a policeman who looked like her boss had offered to take her home. I must have let him, she thought with surprise. She couldn't remember a thing.

The man, who looked like Skinner and whose name she couldn't remember, had obviously just arrived home. His wife was fussing around him, putting the kettle on, touching him as she moved around the kitchen preparing a meal.

'I'm sorry I dropped you in it like that,' the man said. 'She just looked so lost.'

'No,' she smiled at him. 'You did the right thing. She wouldn't have coped much longer.' The woman was tall and elegant. Her dark hair hung to her shoulders in a glossy bob. 'I was a bit worried that we might have to get her admitted as well but I think she just needed to sleep.'

They're talking about me, Scully thought. What was I doing? I can't remember getting here, or getting undressed. What happened? What did I do? She hung back, too embarrassed to make her presence known.

'Oh,' the wife said. 'I swapped with Julie. She was the only one who could work today at short notice. I'll have to work her Saturday night. Sorry.'

No! Scully thought. She didn't go to work because of me. This is terrible.

'So you,' Inspector Stuart's wife said as she dropped a kiss on his bald spot, (Well that's something. I've remembered his name.) 'will have to take the boys to Christmas in the Park.'

'I can't,' he said dropping his head.

'Why? What's wrong?'

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it and read it with a puzzled look. Sinking into a chair she placed it on the table and spread it out. ' What does it mean?'

He pulled out another piece of paper and handed her that. 'It matches this one. This came the week before the Santa Parade. This,' he taped the first page, 'means,' and his words hissed with emotion, 'that he's going to take another child. And I'm picking it will be from the concert.'

His wife's eyes were dark with horror. 'No Rod! No.'

All three people seemed frozen for a long minute. Scully wanted to back away and leave them but was afraid of making a sound. Finally the inspector disengaged himself from his wife's grip. 'What time are you going to wake sleeping beauty,' he asked.

'It's alright,' Scully said stepping around the corner. 'I'm awake. I think.'

They smiled at her. The inspector stood and pulled out a chair for her. 'I must say, you look better than when I last saw you,' his wife said.

Scully was concerned. ' I must have looked pretty bad.'

'Yes,' the woman said honestly. 'You did.' She appraised her carefully and Scully didn't avoid the scrutiny. She seemed satisfied with what she saw. ' Now,' she said. 'You'll want to know. I rang the hospital at five and your husband was doing well. He's even managed 200 mls of urine output since midday so it sounds as if he's picking up. I'm also guessing you need coffee.'

Scully smiled with enormous relief. 'Yes please. Coffee would be wonderful. Um,' she felt embarrassed. 'I can't remember your names. I can't even remember getting here. And please, what time is it?' She was babbling but she was just so relieved that Mulder's kidneys hadn't been permanently damaged. 'Oh, and Mulder's my partner, not my husband.'

The others were smiling, sharing her pleasure at the good news. They were such nice people. They were being so good to her. He was going to be alright, she was so relieved.

A large mug of coffee appeared at her elbow. 'I'm Paula,' the woman said putting her hand on Scully's shoulder grounding her a little. 'And that is my husband Rod. He rescued you from the hospital just before you hit terminal fatigue. It's nearly six and I would have woken you soon anyway. I know you'll want to get back.' She looked at her with concern. 'You've had about six hours sleep. You will,' she sternly wagged a finger at Scully, 'come back here for the night and sleep some more. Hospital staff are paid to stay awake at night. Let them earn their money.'

Paula crouched in front of Scully's chair, felt for her pulse. 'You scared me this morning. You were in a bad way. We need to look after you if you are to be any good to your partner. Alright?'

Scully nodded, a lump in her throat and Paula stood up. 'You need to eat Dana. What time of day do you feel like? Do you want breakfast sort of things or something more substantial?'

Scully uttered her thanks then sat there and let herself be fussed over. She realised she had no choice.

Christchurch Public Hospital

Rod dropped Scully at the main entrance of the hospital then sped off, back to his office. He still had a lot to be done before he could give up for the day. Scully watched the car leave and stood, enjoying the warm evening air before stepping back into the antiseptic airconditioning of the hospital. She contemplated the forces that had conspired to bring this man and his family into her life right when she needed them.

Well fed, showered and dressed in her own clean clothes she felt much more her usual self. She wasn't stupid. An obviously senior police officer, obviously very wrapped up in a case doesn't suddenly decide to play Knight in Shining Armour for the fun of it. He must have a reason and Scully hoped it wasn't that he wanted Mulder's help. But she couldn't think of anything else it could be.

She breathed deep, enjoying leaving her heavy winter coat behind. For the first time she started to think about what would happen next? She wondered how long Mulder would be in hospital and what he would want to do when he came out. She couldn't see him wanting to go home but their vacation would be severely curtailed. He would probably have to stay around for wound checks and the like. Looked like he wouldn't be sitting up mountains watching UFOs after all.

But first she had to get him conscious. Scully found her way back to the ICU, suddenly terribly eager to see Mulder and see for herself how well he was doing. She felt like she'd left him alone for days.

As she entered Mulder's cubicle Sally, a nurse she recognised from the night before was busy taking recordings. She looked up when she heard Scully and smiled. 'He's doing well.' She patted Mulder's leg. ' Good boy.' Sally tended to treat her patient as a naughty little boy and it seemed appropriate. She smiled at Scully. ' You look better.'

'I feel it too,' Scully answered. She went straight to the head of the bed. 'Mulder?' she said quietly. Her hand went to his forehead, her multi purpose Mulder checking touch. It told her a lot about his condition and it told him that she was there. It reconnected them and she couldn't have not touched him like that if she'd tried. ' I'm back.' He felt cool, no fever, well hydrated, no shock. Automatically she checked the monitors and equipment, her hand stroking his hair back. 'How are you doing? It's looking good. You're going to be fine.'

Sally recognised the private moment and left them some space. As Scully pulled up the chair and settled by the bed she spoke. 'He's doing well,' she reported. 'His urine output's up and the blood pressure's settled right down.'

Scully took Mulder's hand in hers and started when he twitched under her touch. 'He's lightening,' she said in surprise.

'That's the other thing I was going to tell you,' Sally said. 'Dr Neur is very happy with his progress. She wants to get him extubated. We're letting him come round and we'll see how he goes.'

Scully was alarmed. 'Don't let him wake up with the tube still down. He really hates that.'

Sally looked at her puzzled. 'We don't do that. Nobody likes it.'

'I'm sorry,' Scully explained. 'It's just that Mulder's probably spent more time in ICU's than most people ever do. He's really frightened about things like that.'

'And that frightens you,' Sally said softly. She had noticed that the patient's past history in the notes extended to several pages. She hadn't read it because his history wasn't relevant to his current care. Now her interest was aroused. She'd read it later, once the partner had gone. Something to keep her going till home time.

Mulder started to come round about nine. The respirator was adjusted to allow him to start breathing for himself. Dr Neur arrived and at the first sign that Mulder was fighting the ventilator tube she removed it. Mulder coughed and choked but didn't wake. His breathing calmed and Sally placed an oxygen mask on his face. 'Easy,' she soothed. 'You're okay. Just breathe.'

Stroked by Scully, Mulder settled down, breathing well on his own. After a few minutes she saw the pulse oximeter reading steadying on an acceptable figure and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd be okay.

When Rod arrived sometime after ten he wasn't sure if he'd have a fight on his hands or not. He remembered refusing to leave Davy's side for the first few days after the accident. People had tried so hard to make him go home and sleep. He felt a sudden pang of guilt as he remember that it had been his annoying neighbour Bob Hamilton of all people, who had arrived at 3 am one morning to sit with Davy. He sat with Davy so that Rod would know that Davy wouldn't be alone while Rod went for a rest. Bob Hamilton who Rod had had running around in circles for several hours today tracking down luggage and bribing customs officials (in the nicest possible way) so that unaccompanied bags could find their rightful owners.

The bed had been lowered so it was on a level with Dana's chair. She was semi lying, her head alongside the man's on the pillow. One hand held his, the other rested on his shoulder, lightly stroking. It was as close as she could get to holding him in her arms without actually crawling onto the narrow bed. It was very quiet and they looked very peaceful.

'Hi,' he said quietly.

She looked up and smiled. 'Hi.' In the dim light she looked very pretty.

'Ready to go?'

She nodded. 'Just give me a minute. Okay?'

'Yeah.' He sighed with relief.

Ten minutes later she met him at the door. Now that she knew him a little better he didn't look nearly so much like Skinner. He was tired but greeted her with a smile. 'I see the ventilator is gone.'

'Yes,' she smiled, pleased to have some one to share with. 'He's doing really well. He woke enough to know me. He said my name, then he just went straight back to sleep.' She gave a huge yawn. ' I think we're jet lagged.'

'Come on Cinderella,' he offered his arm. 'Let's get you home to bed.'

'I know what it feels like you know,' he said getting into the car. 'I know how hard it is to leave. Our youngest son Davy spent sixteen days in intensive care a couple of years ago...'

The telling of his tale took them home.

When they entered the house they were greeted by Paula and a tall youth that Scully took to be the older son Brad. They'd been watching TV in the family room but jumped up when they heard the car drive into the garage. Rod did a double take when he saw his son. 'What are you doing up?'

The boy hung his head. 'Brad wants to talk to you,' Paula said. A wealth of information passed unspoken between husband and wife.

Rod pulled at his hair. 'Okay,' he said. 'You get yourself into bed. I'll see you in a minute.' Brad turned to leave. 'Oh Brad,' his father called. 'Aren't you going to say hello to our guest.'

Brad glanced at Scully, mumbled something that may have been hello, blushed and then fled the room.

'Don't mind him,' Paula told her. 'It's something to do with being a teenager.'

'Oh,' was all Scully could think of saying.

Paula led Scully into the lounge to show her the sofa bed she'd made up. She felt embarrassed about putting a guest in Davy's bed earlier but there hadn't been time to do anything else, Dana had needed a bed urgently. She showed her guest the bathroom, where to find extra towels and urged her to make herself at home. Paula had decided that she liked her unexpected visitor and she certainly felt for her plight. It was actually quite good to have something to distract her from her concern for Rod who was getting too involved in his case. 'And if you're hungry, anytime, for heavens sake help yourself to something to eat.' Scully was left trying to stammer her thanks. Being taken in by total strangers was a new experience for her.

As the women moved back into the kitchen Rod stormed back down the passageway. 'The answer in no!' he informed Paula.

'I know that,' she said mildly. 'I told him you'd say that but he wanted to hear it himself.'

'He's only fourteen.'

'I know.'

'Even if it weren't for this case there is still no way I would let him go. Not just a group of kids on their own.' He sat at the table with a sigh. 'Maybe next year.'

'Hmm.' She was non-committal. She patted him on the shoulder. 'Anyway, I'm going to bed. I only stayed up to see how you both were.'

Rod smiled. 'Well Dana's got good news anyway.'

Scully told her about Mulder being off the ventilator.

'That's great. They'll probably move him onto a ward tomorrow.' She looked at her husband concerned. 'What's your news?'

He spread his hands and shrugged. 'I don't know love. I'll talk to you later. Okay?'

'Okay.' She kissed him lightly on the top of his bald spot.

When she'd gone Rod stood up. 'What say I make us a milo?' He saw Scully's puzzled face. 'That's a hot chocolate drink. Just what mothers feed their children when they want them to sleep.'

Scully smiled. 'That sounds good.' She had brought hers and Mulder's carry on bags into the kitchen and was checking through hers to see if anything had gone missing in the twenty four hours it had been unattended. Everything seemed to be there, passport, purse, all her cards and money, US and NZ dollars still there. She even seemed to have gained the magazine that she'd been looking through before chaos broke loose. Some one had obviously taken good care of their gear.

Rod found cups, milk and milo powder. When he had the milk heating he turned back to her. 'What do you do in the FBI Dana?'

Scully smiled. How would this man take it? One way to find out. 'We work in the X Files...' She watched the incredulity on his face as she explained their work but there was no sign of ridicule. He asked a few intelligent questions and seemed very interested in their investigation methods and resources. 'Our closure rate is one of the best in the FBI,' she finished proudly. She sipped from her mug. The drink was chocolaty, slightly malty and not too sweet. It was soothing, or maybe it was just tiredness making her so sleepy.

'When you say we, how big's your department?'

She had to smile at that. 'No. When I say " we", I mean Mulder and me. Period. Just us.' She picked up her passport and glanced at the photo. She'd changed a lot since that was taken, when, seven years ago.

'You work together?' He was astounded. That sort of arrangement was frowned on in his own force.

'Yes, we're partners. Ah,' the penny dropped. 'It's alright. I know what you thought. Partners is an ambiguous word. That's what we are though. Close, but not that close. We're best friends.' God, she thought, shut up. The lady doth protest too much. She turned the pages of her passport as a thought struck her. She opened Mulder's bag and found his passport near the top of a jumble of his belongings. She opened it and looked up at the senior police officer sitting across from her. 'Rod, how did our passports get stamped?'

He shrugged and spread his hands. 'It's not what you know,' he said slyly. 'It's who you know.'

'mmm.' Scully took a deep breath and made her decision. 'Tell me about your case Rod. Can I help?'

She watched him. He looked pleased, and then he looked guilty. ' No Dana, it's alright. You don't have to do that.'

'That's why you came to the hospital yesterday isn't it? You've heard about Mulder and you want his help.'

'Well yes,' he said uncomfortably. He'd already had Mulder's passport checked and knew that he did have the right man. The fact that he'd been profiling serial killers at the age of 25 was a little frightening. He was very much looking forward to meeting this man properly. 'I had thought that. But now it doesn't seem fair.'

'I'll tell you what,' Scully said. 'Tell me. Now, quietly and unofficially and see if I can help. I know you're really worried about it. I might be able to see things from a different perspective.' She smiled and gestured at her mug. 'It does seem to be the least I can do.'

He chewed his lip and gave a brief nod. 'Okay. This may not seem much to you, but here, in this town, this is a big thing. Things like this don't happen in New Zealand.' He opened his briefcase and pulled out a file. He found a photograph and handed it to Scully. The photo was a studio portrait of a pretty dark skinned girl. Her curly black hair framed a happy face with laughing brown eyes and a gappy smile. 'Hinemoa Turoa,' Rod said. 'Eight years old, older sister to two brothers, doing well at school.' He paused and then reeled off more facts. 'Maori mother, pakeha father. Happy and friendly. Brownie Guide, adored by her family and everyone who knew her.' He pulled out another photo and threw it on the table. A polaroid, the same child, blue and cold on an autopsy table. 'Kidnapped from the Santa Parade. Murdered. Drowned. Tied to a boogie board and floated down the estuary on an outgoing tide.' He raised haunted eyes to Scully. 'That is my case.'

Scully looked at the photos. A child. A dark haired child. 'What have you got?' she asked.

'Not much. She was at the Santa Parade with her parents, younger brothers and six cousins, nine children for the adults to watch. The parade is a big thing, thousands of people along the route, around a hundred floats. A real family affair. The Turoa family was about half way along the route. The end of the parade passed them about mid day and they started to walk back to catch their bus. They had to walk back along the street in the same direction as the parade was moving and there were hundreds of people going in all directions. They passed an icecream vendor and stopped to let the children spend their pocket money. That was when they noticed Hinemoa wasn't with them.

'That was Saturday. The next she was seen was Monday morning... By an early morning surfer as her body rolled in the waves where the estuary runs into the sea.' He checked his notes. 'She had been dead approximately twenty four hours. She was drowned... In what was probably tap water, before she'd been put in the river. No sign of sexual assault, rope burns on wrists and ankles, torn nails suggesting she fought back.'

His hands went to his hair. ' Facts. Nothing. We've interviewed hundreds of people who were at the parade.' He looked up at Scully. 'The police are pursuing their enquiries'

'You have got something else though haven't you?' she asked quietly.

He made a frustrated hissing noise. 'Yees. But I have no proof this has anything to do with it.' He took two sheets of well folded paper out of his pocket and smoothed them out. 'These are copies obviously. This note was addressed to me personally and arrived in my office the Wednesday before the Santa Parade. My secretary nearly binned it but changed her mind and filed it.'

He gave a little grunt and offered a wry smile. 'It's an X File. My secretary has a slightly eccentric filing system. These things used to go in W for weird, but that drawer is full, so now they go in the drawer underneath.'

'X,' Scully smiled.

'Yes.'

'After Hinemoa disappeared she remembered it and showed me. I'm sure it's from our man.'

He passed the note over and Scully read :

TIS THE SEASON OF INNOCENTS.

INNOCENCE WILL BE LOST.

'Innocents, innocence? Spelling mistake or deliberate?' She looked at him. 'I think it's deliberate don't you?'

Rod nodded. He then passed her the second note. 'This arrived yesterday morning. Addressed to me.'

A TIME OF INNOCENTS.

A TIME OF SORROW

'Saturday night,' Rod continued, 'is the big free Christmas in the Park concert. Over one hundred and twenty thousand people attended last year, half of those were children.' He put his head in his hands. ' I don' t know what to do.'

'You can't stop it?' Scully asked quietly.

'On the basis of that?' He gave a mirthless laugh. 'No.'

'No,' Scully agreed.

He tapped the notes. 'First one postmarked Merivale, second Hoonhay. They're suburbs on opposite sides of town. Not that Christchurch is very big. Common computer paper, inkjet printer. No prints.' He shook his head. 'And nothing to tie either of them in to anything.'

'Nothing to show that Hinemoa's death is linked to anything either,' Scully said. 'It could be a coincidence.'

'I tell myself that. But I have no way of knowing until Sunday morning do I? When we see if we've got any kids missing from the concert. Shit!' He thumped the table. 'The bastard has already defiled the Santa Parade. Christmas in the Park is another tradition that will never be the same. It's changed already for us. We've always gone as a family, but not this year.'

'Paula is working and you'll be there but you won't be enjoying it.'

'Precisely. No way Brad and his mates are going unaccompanied either.'

'You can't warn the public without inciting panic...'

'And possibly ruining the concert,' he finished ruefully. 'The council is not being very understanding.'

'A hundred and twenty thousand people,' Scully murmured.

'mmm. And one more child that won't be opening presents on Christmas morning.'

Scully found herself biting back a yawn. 'Let me take the file to bed. I'll have a look at the PM results and see if I can tell you anything.'

'No. No way.' Rod gathered up his papers and shoved them back in his case. 'It's late. You need to sleep. If you're a good girl I'll let you come into the office when you get bored of the hospital. You can see them there.'

She yawned again. ''kay. Deal.' She went to put Mulder's passport back and realised she hadn't checked his wallet. His bag was a mess, tissues, sweet wrappers, she felt around. Yuck. Husks of sunflower seeds. Wallet... What's this? Small, square, plush? 'Oh.' She pulled the little box out. 'Oh!'

The little crimson jeweller's box sat on her palm. She looked at Rod, her eyes wide with astonishment, her mouth a perfect circle.

Rod smiled. She looked a picture. 'That's good news then is it?'

'I... I..' she stammered, shaking her head and nodding at the same time. Trembling slightly she reached towards the box with her other hand. Rod's hand came down on hers. 'Don't open it!'

She looked at him puzzled. 'Let the poor guy catch a bit of your surprise. He's the one who should have seen what I've just seen.'

'I need to know if... if what's in there, really is still in there,' she said, her voice low and husky.

'Let me.' He took the box and opened it below the table top, out of her sight. He looked up, smiling widely. 'It's still there,' he said quietly. He couldn't help himself 'And it's beautiful.' He looked at Scully's pale face then tucked the box back into the bag, piling Mulder's rubbish back on top. 'You are going to have to work very hard at being surprised. Aren't you.'

'mmm,' Scully nodded, her eyes full of tears. Oh Mulder. I wondered. I thought you might be up to something. Oh god! She stood up. 'At least I've got time to think of a good answer,' she mumbled. 'I think I'd better go to bed.' She turned back as she got to the door, thinking of something. 'Rod, there is one thing I can do. Not for your case, for you. Let me take your children to the concert. They shouldn't have to miss out and I promise they'll be safe with me.'

'You don't have to do that.'

'I know. I'd like to. I'm going to be a bit tired of sitting at Mulder's bedside by then. What else have I got to do?'

'I'll have a word with Paula,' he said. 'But I think that sounds a great idea. You'll enjoy it. There's fireworks and everything. The boys will be pleased.'

'Good.' She turned to go.

'Dana,' he called softly. 'Pleasant dreams.'

- - - - - - - - -


	2. Chapter 2

Utu Part 2

Christchurch Hospital

Friday 10th

8 am

Rod dropped Scully early at the hospital gate. She found herself in the ridiculous quandary of wanting to be with Mulder and not wanting to see him. Don't be stupid, she told herself. Just act normal, he's hardly going to be in any state to notice how you're behaving anyway. I hope he slept alright.

With some trepidation she entered his cubicle to find him sitting up in bed making a half hearted attempt at one handed toast buttering. He looked dishevelled, pale, exhausted and was as cross as a bear. Scully thought he looked wonderful. 'Hey,' she said.

He looked up, the smile transforming his face. 'Scully! Where've you been?' With horror she watched the smile dissolve into tears. 'I woke up and you weren't here.'

'Mulder, hey,' she grabbed his hand. 'I'm here. It's all right.'

'You weren't here,' he sniffed.

'I'm sorry. I know. But I had to sleep. It's been three days since I slept.'

'Scully sorry. I'm sorry Scully.'

'It's alright.' She wiped his eyes and let him blow his nose. 'I'm here.'

'I am so drugged.'

'I can see that,' His eyes wouldn't quite focus.

'I know you needed to sleep Scully.'

'It's all right Mulder. It's good to see you so much better. Do you want me to butter your toast?'

He shook his head. 'It's horrible. You could tile floors with that.' He moved awkwardly on the bed. 'I hate hospitals.'

'Yeah. Now you can add another one to your list.'

Alison floated in the door and put two cups of tea on the table. 'Fox, good news. We're moving you to a ward about ten o' clock. Drink that, both of them, and I'll come and take you for a shower.' She smiled at Mulder and winked at Scully. 'I'll enjoy that.' She grinned, 'Gosh Dana, you look better than the last time I saw you.'

'Every time I walk in here someone says that to me.'

'Might be something in it then.' She turned back to Mulder, 'I'll see you in five. Drink your tea and give your kidneys something to play with please.'

Mulder sipped on the weak tea. 'What did you have for breakfast then?'

Scully thought guiltily of freshly stewed plums, nutty cereal and bread fresh from a breadmaker. She had had a choice of homemade strawberry jam or marmalade made by Paula's mother for her bread. There had been a plunger of strong coffee to accompany it. 'Nothing much,' she said. 'How are you feeling anyway?'

He leant back on his pillows and sighed. 'I don't know,' he said crossly. 'I'm sore, I'm woozy. I'm itchy. I'm dirty.' He opened his eyes and glared at her. 'I'm... I'm just pissed off! Fuck It!' his voice was rising. 'I'm in fucking hospital when we ought to be on vacation. Shit!' He forgot himself and banged his fists on the bed. 'Ahhh,' he howled with pain.

'Mulder,' Scully cried, reaching for him.

'Fuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm sorry,' he sobbed, tense against her chest. 'I've ruined our vacation. Ow. Fuck it hurts.'

Scully shushed him and held him tight, rocking gently. She saw Alison out of the corner of her eye and nodded slightly as she read her query. A few minutes later Alison was back with a syringe. With the contents injected into the IV Mulder settled quickly. Soon after Scully laid him back on the pillows and they watched him fade into sleep.

'Oh well,' Alison said. 'A shower a bit later then.'

Hagley Park

Central Christchurch

3.45pm

Scully was enjoying the sunshine and at last allowing herself to relax a little. She checked her watch, should she go back or should she not? The trees above her gave a dappled shade, enough to protect her from the hot sun and still let some of its warmth in to her tired body. She stretched out on the grass and watched the play of light in the leaves; the colours iridescent and shimmering as a gentle breeze stirred them. Turning her head she watched the sunlight sparkling on the little river that wound through the park. From this angle she could ignore the bulk of the hospital buildings that she could feel looming behind her. She could just lie here and sleep for a little. Now that would be an odd thing to do. She could get up and go back to the police station. She could go back to one of the cafes she'd seen on her way to Rod's office earlier.

She sat up. She could go into the city and sight see. She could go shopping. She could get a cab and go back to the Stuart's. Or, she sighed, she could go back inside and make her peace with Mulder.

She smiled fondly, she knew that the fit of bad temper was really just frustration, but even so. It wouldn't hurt him to know that she wasn't prepared to sit at his bedside like a faithful puppy dog.

Mulder's transfer to the ward had not been plain sailing. He'd been extremely disgruntled to learn that his insurance didn't cover a single room. Things had gone downhill when he discovered that one of his three room mates, could not stop talking. The other two were elderly and deaf. He threw a tantrum that had simply infuriated the staff and embarrassed Scully. It hadn't stopped his room mate talking.

Scully had excused herself and gone to see Rod. On her return she discovered that someone had told Mulder that she was staying with a police officer, not at the hotel as he had thought. Why hadn't she told him he demanded? Because there hadn't been a chance, and anyway so what. Things had escalated and again she'd left. So far she hadn't gone back. What did he think she was doing with the police officer he didn't know? How could he think...? Well, her logical mind told her, has he got any reason not to think that? If you're going to marry me Mulder, you better learn that I don't like to be possessed. And I suppose I'd better get used to sharing things that happen to me. That way no one need get jealous.

She smiled gently. Mulder, you idiot. Don't you know me better than that?

When she walked in she thought she'd come to the wrong room. To start with it was full to overflowing with flowers and was eerily quiet. Three beds were empty and the one that should have been her partner's was completely covered in a snowstorm of get well cards and fluffy toys. For a moment she thought she'd wandered into a child's room by accident, until she noticed Mulder, sound asleep in the middle of the mess.

Mulder was lying on his left side; his bandaged arm flung out beside him with a pillow that was probably supposed to be supporting it. Clasped in his other arm, held tight to his chest was a very large teddy bear. Scully smiled and kissed him quietly on the forehead. 'Well hello Mr tough FBI man.' She carried a chair to the bed. Curious she picked up some of the cards. As she looked through them she could feel her astonishment growing. Taking a handful she went back out to the office. 'Nurse? All this stuff on Mr Mulder's bed. Where did it come from?'

The girl looked up from her paperwork and smiled. 'It's incredible isn't it. That lot's been building up at the main office since he's been here. Apparently there's even more for Mrs Maruyama. People have really taken it to heart.'

'But these cards are all from total strangers. People have sent flowers and toys.' She held up a cheque, 'People have sent money!'

The girl shrugged. 'The whole country felt really bad about what happened. I think the fact that it happened on an Air New Zealand flight makes it feel like it happened here. Mr Mulder and Mr Brunner are heroes, and what happened to Mrs Maruyama is a tragedy. People want to help out.' She gave a quizzical look. 'You do realise that you were headline news for at least two days and the media is still desperate for an interview? I'm surprised they haven't nabbed you yet on your way in or out.'

'You won't let them in will you?'

'Of course not. We've all been given instructions. Mr Brunner's being moved down soon too. Don't worry we'll look after them.'

'What about young loud mouth in there,' she motioned towards the room. ' What's to stop him from telling the tabloids, "I shared a hospital room with..." sort of thing.'

The nurse smiled. 'Don't worry about him, I've just discharged him. He's gone, and the old fellas don't care about anything that isn't carrying a cricket bat. New Zealand are playing the West Indies this week.'

'Oh,' said Scully. 'Thanks for the tip.'

Scully borrowed paper and pen and went back and started noting return addresses if there were any. She collected cash and cheques and realised there was over a thousand dollars here. 'Hell,' she breathed. That was a lot of money to send to a total stranger. There were also pledges of places to stay, free boat and plane trips, free meals and of course the flowers and toys. She started reading the cards. Some simply said "Get Well"; many more were eloquent pleas to not judge New Zealand by what had happened on the flight. The writers seemed to feel that they needed to create a good impression of their country. Many suggested places and attractions to visit, all expressed a genuine desire for the recipient to recover soon.

Scully already had tears in her eyes when she discovered a hand drawn card. The artist had drawn a stick figure with an enormous bandage on its arm. In the background was an aeroplane. Inside he had written,

" To the man who saved the laddy on the plane my mum says your a hero and I should learn that I shoodnt hit my sister corse people get hurt and sometimes its not who you mean bt i shood grow up to be a good person like you Iam sorry you got hurt but hope you have a nice holiday anyway I hate my sister but shse all rite

love from

Liam"

Scully laughed and carefully refolded the card. She looked up to find Mulder's hazel eyes fixed on her. 'Hey,' she said.

'Hey,' he smiled tentatively. He clutched at the bear. 'Is it alright Scully?' He looked at her anxiously. 'I'm sorry about what I said.'

That bear would be easier maintenance than me, Scully thought. She couldn't resist him, nor did she want to. 'Yes Mulder. It's alright.' She leant over and kissed his forehead, the old familiar kiss. She searched his eyes and on impulse leant lower. She kissed him on the lips. His lips were firm under hers, warm and alive. They parted in surprise and she swallowed his breath.

'Oh,' and she pulled away. She sank onto the bed beside him, hand on his shoulder.

He stared up at her. 'What was that for?'

Didn't you like it Mulder? No, don't joke, that's an old response. I wanted to kiss a hero. That's not the right response either. Be honest remember, she told herself. You decided you'd tell him the truth. 'You almost died,' she said. 'Again. You almost died and I realised I'd never kissed you.' There. Does that make everything better? She searched his face and saw that it did.

'Now,' she said swallowing her emotion. She stroked his hair. 'What do you want to do with all your loot?'

'Don't change the subject,' he growled. His arm came around her. 'Can we do that again?'

'mmm.'

They did. Long and hard until it started to get desperate and Mulder pulled away, panting, suddenly dizzy. 'Oh.' His eyes were closed. Scully sat there stroking, grounding herself. She was slightly disorientated herself. 'Oh wow,' he finally said.

'I know,' Scully answered.

Mulder licked his lips. Then he looked up at her, eyes sparkling. 'Scully,' his voice was husky, 'you taste of sugar.' His eyes locked on hers. 'Donuts. You've been eating donuts. God Scully, I'm so hungry.'

She laughed, tension released. 'It will be dinner time soon. They always feed you early in hospital.'

'They won't feed me anything decent. You know that. I'm still on a light diet. I want a steak. Or a burger. Could you get me a burger?'

She stared at him. 'Why are you on a light diet? You should be eating okay?'

'Um,' he dropped his gaze. 'I threw up at lunch time.' He rushed in to justify that. 'I was upset and I hadn't eaten anything for days. I just choked on some lettuce, it wasn't a real vomit but...'

'And you want me to get you a burger?'

'Or a pizza,' he said hopefully.

'Mulder,' she sighed with exasperation. 'I'll tell you what, I'll get you some fruit. Something that slides down easily.' She picked up a card and looked at it grinning. 'I'll get bananas. Bananas are good in cases like yours.'

'Lots of potassium and stuff?'

'Yeah.' She showed him the card that showed an elderly superman fighting to get the top off a pill bottle. 'And they taste nearly the same coming back up as they did going down.'

His look was one of pure disgust.

'Now. What are we going to do about all of this loot?'

He noticed her unconscious use of "we" and settled back into the pillow, feeling more content than he could remember in years.

Later in the afternoon Colin Brunner was transferred into the next bed. He was the other passenger to have been injured by Matuso Maruyama. With him came another florist's convention of blooms and the entire teddy bear isle of a toy shop. Colin had been across the aisle when Maruyama pulled his knife. He had launched himself at the man as the woman had started screaming and had been stabbed in the stomach for his efforts.

Colin was still quite ill but alert enough to be pleased to see Mulder. He remembered Mulder dragging him into the aisle but not much after that. He was interested to hear what else had happened.

Mulder told him what he could. Coming from the row in front, he had been slower and had to get over the injured Colin before he could grab at the enraged husband. He'd shoved Colin out of range and then tried to stop the man who was stabbing repeatedly at his wife. He hadn't been in time to save the wife from receiving serious facial wounds. The awkward space had made it difficult to grab for the man and Maruyama had lashed out with the knife to try and stop him.

Scully had taken herself over the seat and managed to drag the screaming woman along the hastily vacated central seats into the other aisle, leaving Mulder the chance to use his greater bulk to subdue, and finally sit on Maruyama. Male cabin stewards had then taken over and dragged the man to the back of the plane where he'd been flexicuffed to a seat. Mulder's memories were hazy after that.

It had been absolute chaos, Scully remembered, people screaming and fighting to get away. Blood everywhere. She had been busy with the injured woman and the crew and another doctor from further down the cabin had looked after Colin.

Noriko had been having trouble breathing, the knife wounds went right through her cheeks and she had blood streaming down into her throat. Scully had spent a long time with her, trying to keep her calm, pleased that there was another doctor who could look after Colin. When next she'd had time to notice Mulder she'd been shocked to see him clutching a blood soaked towel around his arm.

'I hadn't even realised you'd been hurt,' she said quietly. 'Then I saw the blood dripping from your elbow and saw how pale you were.'

A stewardess had seen it too and hurriedly sat him down reclining the seat. She grabbed another towel, which she put over the first one, and holding his arm up against the back of the seat applied pressure, but it wasn't enough.

Another doctor had appeared and Scully handed Noriko over to her just as Mulder vomited, proving how shocked he was. Before Scully could do anything he'd passed out. The slashes were so numerous and deep that she'd had no choice but to use a tourniquet.

Things had seemed strangely surreal after that she told them. The aircraft purred along, the way it had all the time. There was a movie running and three unconscious people were sprawled across the cabin, one in each aisle and Mulder across the centre seats. The aircraft carried a life pak defibrillator, a clever machine that allowed the doctors to take their patient's heart rhythms, 'and it gave us a basic chance of saving you if one of you went into cardiac arrest,' Scully said. She didn't add how surprised she was that nobody had. Oxygen of course was available and there was enough basic medical equipment to put up three IVs, but the only drugs available were for cardiac and asthma conditions. What they really needed was blood and an operating theatre and they were still three hours from Christchurch. Things had seemed pretty desperate once they'd done all they could, but she didn't tell them that.

The staff had been great she said. Several stewardess were trained nurses and very helpful. The captain had come back and offered to divert to Fiji if the doctors thought it was necessary. However he'd pointed out that while that might be life saving, the surgical services in Christchurch would definitely be above the standard of Fiji's and Fiji's blood supply might be unreliable. The doctors had conferred and decided to continue to New Zealand.

That was a decision they regretted when two hours later Colin's heart rate had become extremely erratic and Mulder's blood was still hosing from him every time Scully loosened the tourniquet. ' I didn't want you to loose your arm,' she told him, holding his hand tight, 'but then it looked like it might be a toss up between that and your life. Your blood pressure was practically non existent. I decided not to take the cuff off again.' Her lip quivered. 'I'm sorry.'

'Scully, shhh. It didn't happen. I didn't loose it. Scully,' he used his good hand to wipe her tears 'I wouldn't have minded. I trust you. If that was the choice you made. That would be okay.' Scully's breath caught in a sob and she leaned into him. The fright of the flight was still very close, probably more real for her than for him. It was his turn to soothe. 'We made it. We all made it, and it's thanks to you.'

'I wasn't the only one.'

'I know. But I'm grateful.'

What the hell just happened here Scully asked herself as she allowed Mulder to hold her against him. She'd been frightened for him before. She had been terrified when he was in that secure psych unit and yet she went off to Africa without even seeing him. What was different now? It was as if kissing him had broken the "I'm fine" barrier. Now they had to be honest. And that meant that comfort could be offered because pain could be acknowledged. She nestled her head against his chest. And comfort could be accepted.

'I heard,' Colin said as he watched the other two snuggle, 'that the captain got that plane to fly faster than it ever has. He used nearly all the fuel reserves and took half an hour off the flight.'

'That's what saved your life,' Scully said. 'And your arm,' she told Mulder.

'I know,' they both said.

'I'd drink a toast to that if they'd let me,' grumbled Colin who was still unable to eat or drink. With Mulder and Scully cuddled together on the bed the conversation moved on to the general griping of two convalescent patients.

Stuart Residence

Sat 11th

9 am

Scully finished a brief perusal of the newspaper then got up to top up her coffee. The sun was bathing the kitchen with warmth and it was going to be too hot to sit here soon. She looked across the table at the morose figure on the other side and reached over to refill Rod's cup too. 'I know you can't stop thinking about it,' she said, 'so why not update me on your witness that came in yesterday.'

Gratefully Rod pushed the newspaper away. 'It might be something,' he muttered. 'Not exactly a reliable witness. The guy thought he had seen a girl fighting someone who might have been trying to get her into the back of a van after the parade. He just thought she didn't want to go home, reasonable assumption. He's done an identikit of the man, but he doesn't really remember, not even enough to remember if he was Pakeha, Maori, Asian, or alien.' Rod saw her quizzical look. 'Pakeha means white. This guy's not even sure if it was Hinemoa, and as far as the van goes,' Rod sighed with frustration, 'it might have been a blue Ford Transit. Or it might not.'

'What's made him take so long to come forward?'

'Usual thing. Wasn't sure if it was important. Didn't want to get involved. My pick, he's a dope head with weed growing in his bathroom and doesn't want to get done for anything himself. His conscience, or his girlfriend finally got to him.'

'Are you running a check on him?'

'Not yet,' Rod grinned. 'We'll give him a chance to be an upright citizen.' He looked around like he'd only just noticed she was missing. 'Where did Paula say she was going?'

Scully shrugged. 'She didn't. Just said she had something she had to do, then we'd go out.'

'Oh yes. Sightseeing.' Rod's voice dripped with sarcasm. 'If you see anything other than shops or markets I'll be very surprised.'

Scully grinned. 'It's a girl thing. Maybe you should come with us, take your mind off things.'

'Thanks but no. If I get time later I'll drive you up onto the Port Hills and show you the view. What time do you think you'll be back?'

'Ah. Sorry. Paula will leave me at the hospital. I won't come back until about six. That should be all right for getting to the concert shouldn't it?'

'Yeah, well, hopefully I'll have nothing to do tomorrow and I can take you then.' They both smiled and Scully knew he didn't believe a word of it.

'What have you got set up for tonight then?'

'I'll go in about three for the briefing. There's a huge uniform presence anyway and I've got six plain clothes teams to cover as well. There's no ticket gates or perimeter fences so I'll get them to wander around the edge of the crowd. You,' he gave a glare that made him uncannily like Skinner again, 'will find somewhere in the middle of the crowd and hang on to Davy like...'

'...like he's my own,' Scully finished. 'Don't worry. I'll be the only other person there aware of danger. I'll be watching them.'

He smiled. 'Thanks.'

'You'll be watching the car parks?'

'Yep.'

'Lost children area?'

'It's a tent. Yes, but I think he's more likely to do what he did last time, take a child at the end when everyone's milling around and parents are distracted.'

But Scully was no longer listening to him. She was staring at Paula who had come in while they were talking. Paula was watching her right back, a triumphant smile on her face. She was holding up Scully's blue jacket. The jacket that Scully had last seen bloodstained and ruined stuffed into a hospital property bag. Only now it was on a hanger, clean, pressed, and as good as new. 'Oh,' Scully said reaching for it then sitting down suddenly as her legs gave out on her. 'Oh thank you.' Her eyes glistened. Paula put the jacket on the table and enfolded Scully in her arms. 'I thought you'd be pleased,' she murmured.

Surgical Ward

Christchurch Hospital

9.30 am

Mulder stood with his nose pressed to the window watching a circus set up in the park across the road. From this height, the border of oaks were inconsequential and he could see most of the action. It looked to be a beautiful day out, but up here in the air conditioning the outside weather was immaterial. He paced the length of the window, turning at the end and returning to where he started.

'For god sake stop it,' Colin muttered but without much conviction. It wasn't the first time this morning he'd said it. 'You're making me tired.'

'Yeah. Sorry,' Mulder moved back to his bed. He was a little tired himself and now he could pretend to be appeasing Colin. 'Where have the old guys gone?' he asked wondering if it might be somewhere more interesting than here.

'They're watching the cricket test in the lounge.'

'Oh.' Nope, cricket was one thing English he'd never managed to get interested in. He'd been to a match once, only huge amounts of alcohol and the absence, for some reason or other, of Pheobe had made it tolerable. He picked at the bandaging around his fingers. How long till he could have another of those pills? His arm ached terribly with a sort of tingly, jumpy sensation while the briefest touch caused it to flare into heart stopping agony. The pills weren't as good as the injection, but at least his head was clearer now. He tried to wiggle a finger into the bandaging.

'Don't do that Mr Mulder,' a deep voice boomed in his ear.

Jesus! Mulder jumped as if he'd been stung. Mr Sharples, the plastic surgeon. Fuck! He looked around. And the entire entourage, keen young things in white coats. 'Morning,' he muttered. ' I didn't realise you people worked weekends.'

'I do try not to,' Sharples said. 'However since I wanted to check in on Mrs Maruyama, I decided I would come and see you too. Let's have a look at that arm shall we.'

Before Mulder could blink his arm was unwrapped and naked before the crowd. He stared in horror at the suture lines that criss crossed the pale skin of his inner arm. Jesus. The skin was pulled and swollen, puckered and disfigured by the red cuts and peppered by hundreds of tiny black stitches. The gauze pulled off the wounds was sticky with yellow exudate and had a feral, unhealthy smell.

The smell did it. He felt himself swoon, the sweat breaking out on his forehead, the sound of the doctor and medical students swelling and waning in his ears. Oh hell, he thought vaguely. This will be a first, fainting while actually lying down. He moaned, if he didn't throw up first. He became aware of his other hand being held, the grip hard, giving him another focus. Gratefully he turned his head to meet the eyes of a young Asian girl in a white coat. She held his gaze and kept it. Gradually, swimming in her dark eyes, he felt better. She waited until the wounds were cleaned and redressed before she left. She never said a word.

Ten minutes after the road show had left the male charge nurse came into the room. 'Mulder mate,' he grinned. 'Great news. You've got weekend leave.' He smiled at the reaction he got. 'Do you need to use the phone?'

Stuart Residence

5pm

Davy walked into the kitchen to find the adults were still arguing. He looked anxiously from one to the other, the pretty woman and the tall skinny man with his arm in a sling. Their voices were raised, their postures aggressive and they were both talking at once. They looked like two cats hissing and spitting at each other. Davy knew what they were talking about but he couldn't follow what was being said. He hoped he could manage not to look too disappointed when they told him they weren't going, he didn't want her to think he was just a dumb kid. Davy supposed she must think it strange that a deaf kid would want to go to a concert anyway, but he'd been looking forward to this since last year. He could feel the music through the ground and through the air, the crowd created an electricity that made him tingle. And then there were the fireworks. He could hear those. Please let us be going. He glared at the man and sent a silent plea. "Go back to hospital. Don't ruin it."

'Dana.' He pulled anxiously at her sleeve until he got her attention. 'We are going aren't we?'

'What?' Scully snapped. She turned, seeing the appeal in the dark eyes and instantly realised what was wrong. She put her arm around the boy's shoulder and made sure he could see her face. 'Yes Davy. We are going to the concert. Mulder,' she glared at her partner, ' is not!'

'Scully,' he whined. 'I can't stay here. They've only got four TV channels.'

She growled. 'Give me strength. We have been through all of this. You are supposed to be resting.'

'He could rest on the blanket,' Davy said, desperately trying to rescue the situation. 'We take a blanket to sit on,' he explained. 'Sometimes I just lie there and look at the sky.'

'There,' said Mulder triumphantly giving the big helpless shrug that made her want to kill him.

'For fu..,' Scully swallowed her swear words. She flung her hands up. 'Okay.' She turned and glared at him. 'You. Go lie down. Now. We leave here at six so you've got about an hour. I'm going...' She was pacing in frustration. 'I'm going for a walk. And don't even think of getting off that bed until I get back.' She turned to Davy. 'Watch him,' she ordered. She flung open the front door and strode out.

'Oohh.' Mulder and Davy exchanged looks. 'You better lie down then,' Davy said.

'Don't come heavy on me kid,' Mulder mumbled. He started to slump into the lounge room, which was their bedroom for the duration.

Davy stood at the door, arms folded like a jailer and watched as Mulder found the remote, climbed onto the sofa bed and turned on the TV. He brightened. 'Hey, What's happening in the cricket.'

'Dunno,' Mulder patted the bed. 'Why don't you come and explain it to me. You got any food?'

Half an hour later Scully was back, bad temper assuaged by her brisk whisk around the block. The afternoon was warm, the gardens smelled sweet, and she was soothed by the buzz of lawn mowers and the scent of backyard barbeques. Saturday summer afternoon in suburbia. To be followed by free family Christmas concert. It felt good. It felt normal. Until she remembered that this was a borrowed suburb, she was taking borrowed children to the concert, and to all intents and purposes, this was really borrowed time. In about three weeks she'd be back in winter Washington, back to her real life.

With a sigh she let herself back into the house and went into the lounge. Fuck. The sight before her was perfect proof that men started their training young and never grew up. Mulder and Davy shared the bed, Brad was in the armchair. It was a male bondage personified. They were muttering unintelligible somethings to each other, swearing (all three of them) at the cricket commentator, and having a wonderful time. The bed, and the rest of the room were littered with potato chip packets, crushed chips, coke cans, chocolate biscuit packets, and... Yes, she sniffed the bowl, it really was. Custard! Custard smudged the bowl that showed signs of having been licked, custard trailed across the duvet, and a fair bit of it was smeared across three tee shirts and three faces. There was even custard on the cream carpet.

'Mulder!' Her voice was low and dangerous.

Brad jumped and Davy turned to see what happened, but Mulder gave a sunny smile. 'We're winning Scully.'

'Jesus.' She punched the off switch of the television with violence and launched into full rant. 'How the hell could you make such a mess in such a short time? And this?' she held up the bowl, 'What the hell is this?'

'That was Brad's idea,' Mulder told tales. Brad sunk in his chair. 'He's good at making custard. These biscuits,' he held up an empty packet, 'taste really good with custard. You should try them.'

Jesus Christ. He had no fucking idea. This was someone else's house he'd just trashed, not some crummy hotel room. She skewered him with a look and watched him shrink. She extended it to take in the two boys. 'You lot, get this cleaned up. Now.' Her voice was nearly a whisper. 'Or we won't be going anywhere.'

'But Dana,' Davy's voice was panicked. 'He didn't get out of bed. Not once.'

In retrospect Mulder decided the custard party probably hadn't been a particularly good idea. Scully had barely said a civil word since she'd caught them. She'd apparently forgotten about Mulder's need for rest too, and had made him get down on his knees and clean the carpet. She was busy slamming the last of their picnic provisions in the boot while the boys climbed into the back of Paula's little two door hatchback.

Mulder watched Brad quizzically. He had a feeling he'd been conned and that chocolate biscuits with custard wasn't something Brad was usually allowed to eat. Damn. It tasted good though. He licked his lips, hopefully checking for any left overs.

He looked up to see Scully watching him and for once couldn't read her expression. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip in one last search and saw her pupils darken. His groin got it before his mind did and a warm feeling rushed through him. Mmm. Must file that away for future reference. How come he'd never noticed that before. God, she looked good tonight. She was wearing her new blue jacket with a floaty floral dress underneath it. The jacket was the same colour as some of the small flowers on the dress, the colour that matched her eyes. He was so unused to seeing her in anything other than drab coloured suits that she seemed a different person. She looked stunning. He wondered if she knew.

'Mulder,' she said, her voice like velvet. 'Get in the car.'

Scully knew that driving a right hand drive car on the left hand side of the road was going to take a little getting used to. She would have preferred her first attempt to have been solo but there hadn't been a chance. Now, she was having to figure it out with a car full of backseat drivers.

Brad started it. 'My Dad says that lots of people get killed by tourists who try and drive on the wrong side of the road.' That was as she reversed down the driveway and hadn't even got on to the public domain.

She managed to get onto the road, on the right side, which was the left side and pointed in the right direction then she stalled. Damn. Her right hand hit the door as she reached out automatically to change gear, with the wrong hand. She expected Mulder to snigger but he didn't. When she had her left hand on the gear stick he placed his hand on top and gave her a little pat. 'You get used to it you know,' he said. 'It won't take long.' He smiled at her, he seemed happy again. 'Hey Scully,' he said as she did the little hand shuffle at the intersection with the main road. 'You want me to change gears.' She grinned back. It was good to have him with her, even if he really shouldn't be here.

'That way,' Brad ordered. 'There, there see. Turn there.'

Thankfully Scully already knew where to go. They were going to park in the police station yard and walk the two blocks to the park. Scully just hoped that Mulder was up to it. She knew he had to feel worse than he was letting on.

Even as they drove past the hospital they started seeing people parking and walking towards the venue. Maybe they were lucky to be parking where they were after all.

Mulder spotted the circus tent between the trees, bright red and white stripes, enticing in the sun. 'You'd hardly think it would be worth their while to show tonight, what with a free concert happening on the other side of the park.'

'Big park Mulder,' Scully said. And it was. There was much more to it than what he had seen from the hospital, half of their trip seemed to skirt the park.

They entered the one way system and the roads were packed and slow moving. Turning back onto a two way road gave Scully a moments worry as she'd been driving comfortably on the right and then had to readjust to end up on the left. However it was only another block to the police station and she pulled in, pleased they'd made the trip with out incident.

They piled out of the car, obviously not the only people with police connections making use of the parking. Scully loaded the boys up with their supplies, carrying two deck chairs herself and leaving Mulder to bring just himself. Moving onto the street they joined a happy throng of people all similarly laden moving towards the concert.

People attending the concert came in all shapes and sizes. There were family groups, teenagers, the elderly. In ones and twos or in much larger groups, happy and having fun, it seemed as if the entire population of Christchurch was intent on a free night out.

A bottle neck of pedestrians had formed at the bridge over the placid Avon River, the only entry to the ground from this direction. Although wide enough for vehicle access it was packed with people arriving from three different directions and all intent on going in one, across the bridge to the concert ground on the other side.

'Stick together,' Scully implored, but it was difficult. With their hands full they couldn't hold hands and the crowd swirling around them carried them every which way. Davy was nearly delirious with excitement, bouncing around. He was rather like Winnie the Pooh's friend Tigger Scully decided. She understood now where that character's traits had come from. She grabbed at his arm, then managed to snag the back pack Brad was wearing. 'Stay together,' she told them.

They were doing alright until she heard Mulder scream. Inspite of being well padded with layers of wadding and bandages, his arm was acutely sensitive to the lightest touch. He was wearing a sling, which had so far stopped people from getting too close, but now a woman, fighting with a struggling toddler had stumbled straight into him, her full weight and that of her child pressing his arm between her body and his. The pain was ghastly; the raw nerve endings shrieking in a cacophony of neural impulses that seemed to come from every part of his body. 'Fuckfuckfuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...' The intense pain sent his body into shock. Scully turned back to see him, his arm clasped to his chest, doubled over, and slumping as he started to go down.

Struggling backwards she grabbed at his good arm, propelling him bodily through the crowd and up against the bridge rail where he sprawled, reeling, desperately trying to hold himself together. The crowd streamed past oblivious. 'Got bumped,' he gasped, tears streaming down his white face. 'Ohgod god fuckfuckfuckfuck...'

Scully leaned against him, something strangling her heart as she watched him fight the pain. She supported him with her body weight and at the same time shielded him from the crowd.

Shit! Scully looked around for the boys. 'Brad! Brad!' She could see his head disappearing off the end of the bridge. Davy being smaller was already lost from her sight. Oh Christ! If the perp had been watching them this was exactly the sort of happening he would be looking for. 'Davy!' she screamed although she knew he could never hear her. 'Brad!' She grabbed Mulder again. 'Come on. We can't loose the boys.'

With no choice Mulder stumbled alongside her. The crowd pushed them around like flotsam and Scully could no longer see the boys or even decide which way they had gone. Shit no! What now? Mulder staggered and she realised he couldn't stay upright much longer. She worked them across the flow, off to the side of the main path and up against one of the large oak trees that bordered the ground. 'Sit down,' she ordered. She helped him lower himself, pressing his head down to his knees, looked up, and there, leaning on the next tree were Brad and Davy. She took a deep relieved breath and offered a small prayer of thanks that they were sensible children.

'What happened?' Brad asked. 'Hey, Mr Custard, are you okay?

'Yeh,' Mulder mumbled attempting to smile. God, don't mention custard. He was really regretting that now and hoped like hell he wouldn't be seeing it again. The pain was easing a little but he felt like shit. He was breathing hard. 'Sorry to ruin the party.'

'You boys gave me a fright,' Scully told them. 'I thought we'd lost you.' She smiled warmly. 'And you've got the food.' The evening was warm but she pulled Mulder's leather jacket out of the pack and wrapped it around his shoulders. 'We'll sit here a couple of minutes,' she told the boys. 'Let's just watch the people go past for a while.' Her hand rested lightly on her partner's shoulder and he gave a small grateful nod.

Two minutes later Mulder forced himself to his feet. The nauseating scent drifting from a nearby hot food trailer was going to make him heave. But that wasn't the only reason to leave. He had been watching the boys and Scully, in her dress like a garden and realising that his continual needy child impersonation, must pale beside the pleasure she seemed to be getting from looking after the real thing. Okay Mulder, it is time to start acting like a man. And that means, not making a fuss when you get hurt. 'Come on,' he told them, 'let's go get a seat.'

Usually a sports field, the concert ground was a big open area ideally suited for tonight's use. At one end, near the bridge a huge box like stage was set up with an enormous Christmas tree beside it. There was a raised screen and sets of huge speakers in place around it. Marking a ragged perimeter were hot dog and ice cream stalls and rows and rows of portaloos. The field was already loosely full and the group made their way into the middle until Davy stopped them close to one of the speaker towers. It was possible to see the stage and the screen and seemed as good a place as any. They found a space and Brad set out the rug while Davy prepared to dive into the picnic basket.

Brad was being sulky again. He'd just remembered that he was being baby sat and that some of his friends were probably here alone. Then he remembered that his babysitters were American FBI agents and usually they wore guns, and that was just way cool. He didn't quite know what to feel. Meanwhile his stupid kid brother was bouncing around like a bloody bunny. And he was going to sing, Brad just knew it. Davy shouldn't sing. God it was so embarrassing.

Scully watched the sibling interplay while she set up the deckchairs. She watched amused as Mulder attempted to sit in his without appearing to collapse on it. She sat on the rug herself, smoothing out her skirt and enjoying the feel of the cool cotton on her legs. 'Hey Mulder,' she held out her hand in invitation, 'A beautiful evening, you and me, a rug in a park...' she waggled her eyebrows and watched delighted as he giggled.

'Yeah, you and me, two kids and a cast of thousands.' Wincing he slid down beside her.

'Lie down.' Scully hid her smile and settled him with his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying its softness and knowing that he would be comforted by her touch. She noted he was still pale and sweaty. Her hand slid down to the pulse in his neck, still too fast. She congratulated herself. He'd feel much better lying down.

In the next twenty minutes the crowd had doubled in density, the boys had polished off an awesome picnic, and Mulder had gone to sleep.

When he awoke, the world seemed to have gone mad. People, hundreds of people surrounded him on all sides and his head was resting on Scully's thighs, his nose pressed against her stomach. He knew it was Scully by the intense Scully scent, although he could only see flowers from this cross eyed view point. A crescendo of sound washed over him, "Christmas Bells, those Christmas Bells, Ringing through the land..." He could feel Scully singing the words. He could hear Davy, loud and out of tune chanting them. Thousands around him were singing as well. "Bringing peace to all the world, And good will to maa aaaan." Turning his head slightly he looked up. Up past the glorious bumps of Scully, past her upturned chin, past where her hair shone bright against a cobalt evening sky, and he identified the other noise, two biplanes circling high above the crowd. Oh. The song, he knew it now, "Snoopy's Christmas," the Red Baron, and the two planes dog fighting in the sky. He breathed in Scully smell and felt her hand in his hair. He sighed with deep contentment.

'Mulder,' her hand tightened warningly in his hair. She bent her head down and kept her voice low. 'Stop sniffing my crotch.'

'Uh...' Swallowing he gathered himself to dive away but she kept hold of his hair. Pushing him back down she relaxed her grip and caressed his head instead. 'You can stay there. Just don't embarrass me or the kids. Okay?'

'Mmm.' He nodded furiously. He looked up to see her laughing quietly. Hell, he'd never managed to get away with this anything like this before. The crowd, and from the sounds of it, a choir and orchestra on the stage he couldn't see, were now into "Jingle Bell Rock". He didn't care if he didn't see any of the damn show. The view here was just fine.

Mulder knew he'd be filing the memory of this away in his pathetically thin file of truly happy moments. It would be something to savour in times to come, even if, he found himself hoping, this holiday produced more moments of equal pleasure.

He shifted position slightly. Although his head was supremely comfortable and his nose could stay here forever, as he awoke further he began to realise that the rest of him couldn't. He wasn't as young as he once was and his body was slowly making him aware that he'd been lying on hard ground for rather a long time. His right hip, in fact his whole right side that was taking his weight was starting to ache. And God Damn, his arm throbbed, a pain he'd already learnt wasn't going to get any better without the help of the tablets that were in the pocket he was lying on.

'You must be hungry. Do you want anything to eat?' Scully asked. 'I managed to get the boys to leave you a drumstick.'

Mulder tested the hypothesis and decided that he could eat something.

'Okay. You'd better get up then.' She gave him a gentle push and sighed. 'God, my entire body's numb from the waist down. Come on, get off me.'

Oh God, he scrambled up, awkward and stiff and instantly contrite. She smiled, frustrated with his distress. 'For heaven's sake Mulder. I'd have shifted you if I wanted to.'

'You're sure?'

'Of course. Now help me up.'

She held out a hand and he pulled her to her feet. She smoothed her skirt and rubbed her bottom. Oh Scully, let me. He took charge. 'Okay guys, our turn on the chairs.' Brad sank down on the rug but Davy stood, swaying wildly with the music, the words of the song thundering from his small body. How did he do that? Mulder watched the child and looked where he was looking. Of course. The screen was showing what was happening on stage and the words of the song were scrolling across the bottom. Mulder grinned then realised something else. He'd been aware but not aware when he was lying down, now finally with his feet he realised he could feel the base rhythm through the ground. Wow.

Mulder was quite taken with Davy, as he noticed Scully seemed to be too. He was a beautiful child with pure black wavy hair spiking above an elfin face. He was such a happy boy, his dark eyes alight with interest in the world, and more than a touch of mischief, no one would guess that he was handicapped in any way. His speech was very good, probably Mulder guessed because he'd been eight when he'd had the accident that had lost him his hearing. God it must have been dreadful for him and his family and yet, he seemed bright and well adjusted. It just goes to show, Mulder thought sadly, how loving supportive parents can make such a difference in a child's recovery.

If I ever have children he declared to himself, nothing is ever going to rock their world. He glanced at Scully and smiled wryly. If, I ever have children.

Scully handed him a plate with a piece of chicken and some salad. She gave him a coke and then handed over something else, the antibiotics he was supposed to take three times a day with food. He'd clean forgotten about those. What would he do without Scully to look after him? He smiled his thanks, noting with relief, the fond look in her eyes. What would he do if she ever stopped looking at him like that? To hide his emotion he fished in his pocket for the slide of codeine, fought with the packet and slid one under his tongue. When he looked up again she was engrossed in what was happening on stage. God she was beautiful.

Mulder managed a desultory couple of bites and then hid the plate under his chair. Davy appeared at Scully's elbow. 'I need to go to the toilet.'

Scully looked around. It was a long way to the nearest toilets. Damn. 'Mulder, could you take him?'

'What about Brad? He's a big kid.'

'No. They might get lost. It's alright. I'll go.'

'What's going on Scully?'

'I just promised I'd look after them. What would Paula say if Davy got lost.'

Mulder took him. Davy held his hand and they wove their way through the mosaic of picnic blankets. Mulder waited outside the loo while Davy went in and then, two like minded individuals, they gravitated towards an ice cream stall. Mulder's stomach thought ice cream seemed a much better idea than salad. Davy chose for them all, the most richly extravagant items on offer. Mulder went along with it. What the hell, they weren't his kids. And any way, he was on holiday. Part of the fun of being in a foreign country was in discovering the ice cream. He was surprised they didn't have something kiwi fruit flavoured.

Sitting companionably next to Scully they watched the Christmas tree light up and the first of the fireworks explode across the sky. They watched Davy's awe struck face. 'You want to tell me what you're so uptight about,' Mulder asked.

'What do you mean?'

'Whatever Rod is busting a gut not to ask me about. Whatever it is that he and you seem to think is going to go down here, tonight. Why you're so terrified the boys might get lost. Come on Scully I'm not stupid.'

She gave him a pissed off look. 'I don't want you to get involved and I know you will.'

'I can't say anything about that until I hear what the case is, can I?

Reluctantly she nodded. She knew he was going to get it out of her, so as she saw it, she was better just to tell him and get it over with. She gave him a brief synopsis of the case, the notes, and the Santa Parade kidnapping. Mulder upped his respect of Rod when he heard of his willingness to back his intuition. He took Scully's hand in his. ' I don't see that I can refuse to help if Rod asks.'

'He promised me he'd leave you alone. And I didn't ask him too either, but I was going to. I'm worried you'll go haring off on this and not let yourself get better. And,' she said nearly indignantly, 'you're supposed to be on holiday.'

'He wants to ask doesn't he? And look what he's doing for us.'

She nodded. 'That's the point. That's why he came to the hospital in the first place. But then you were so ill. He's a decent man. He couldn't ask.' She sighed. 'Please Mulder. We're on vacation. Don't get involved.'

Mulder gave her a strange look. 'But Scully you've already gotten involved. How can I avoid it? Anyway,' he went on quickly as she gave him a look, 'we don't know anything is going to happen tonight anyway.'

'Look,' Davy shrieked, breaking their concentration. 'Santa, look Santa.'

'Let's just get these kids home safely for now shall we,' Mulder said. Smiling they looked where Davy was pointing. At the back of the crowd, seemingly floating over their heads in a cloud of dry ice, Santa was indeed arriving. He was coming, not in a sleigh but in a polynesian canoe. A large fibreglass dolphin was pulling the canoe with strings of light wrapped around it, the whole effect was gorgeous. It was quite magical. Everyone was now singing something in a foreign language to which they all seemed to know the words. A chorus of " I Want to Wish You a Merry Christmas" had the crowd on their feet and swaying in ecstasy. Most people were standing, singing and swaying while fireworks were booming and lighting the sky with clusters and showers of colour.

Mulder held on to Scully's hand and they watched the sky. Their closeness and the atmosphere of the crowd made this special. They exchanged a shy smile. They were feeling good, here, together, sharing a magical moment. Pushing to the back of their minds the thought that right now, a child could be being abducted they enjoyed the moment. Mulder put his arm around Scully and pulled her close. He buried his nose in her hair but dared go no further. Then the mock violence of the fireworks drew their attention back to the sky and they were content just to sit there, her hand in his. Davy yelled with every boom, and ahhed at every show of light. Even Brad was entranced. Mulder felt unusually protective. He would make sure these particular children got home.

They got home with very little incident. But it was incident Mulder would have happily done without. After the concert finished, they'd waited for the crowd to disperse a little. They stayed put, munching on chocolate that Scully magicked from a dark corner of the pack.

They finally left the site to the clean up crew and snogging teenagers, acutely conscious of the people around them as they made their way to the car. And yet, apart from a group of boys standing in a row and urinating off the bridge, they saw nothing untoward. Brad and Davy were thunderstruck at the sight. Scully had a horrible feeling that Brad thought it was cool.

To Mulder, the distance back seemed to stretch. It was much further than he remembered. He forced himself to stand straight and walk naturally while his head felt swimmy and he could feel clammy sweat breaking out all over him. There was no way he was going to admit to feeling so bloody weak. Scully needed him to be a man. Scully was holding the picnic basket and Davy's hand, looking every inch a devoted mother and there was no way Mulder was going to spoil her enjoyment of the night. He tried to feel fatherish, escorting his family home but the giddiness ruined that. Scully seemed unaware of how he was feeling and he knew if he could keep it together until they got to the car he'd be all right.

He got to the car, but he wasn't all right. About five minutes up the road he knew for sure. 'Scully stop,' he said desperately.

She glanced at him in alarm.

'Sick,' he mumbled.

She was already pulling up. He was fighting with the belt and falling through the door, before they'd come to a complete stop. Lurching away he fetched up against a garden wall and used it to hold himself up as he vomited on to the dry grass at its base.

Oh real manly behaviour, he berated himself as his stomach contents spattered painfully onto the ground. Puking in someone's garden like a drunken high school student. He hung onto the wall and prayed for it to stop. Scully had zipped his jacket for him, with his arm tucked inside. Now the empty sleeve came free of the pocket it had been tucked into and hung in the line of fire. He turned his head trying to avoid it, and then it was suddenly out of the way and Scully's hand was resting warm and soothing on the back of his neck. Her arm came around his waist and gratefully he leant into her as the spasms lessened and let him breath again.

'Thanks.'

She passed him a tissue.

'I don't know why that happened.'

He heard her chuckle, a sardonic sound with little humour. Her voice when she spoke though was warm. 'You don't think that eating nothing except custard, ice cream and chocolate since you came out of hospital might have had anything to do with it? Did I leave anything out?'

'I had some salad.'

'Oh right. Two teaspoons of lettuce.' She led him back to the car and buckled him in.

'I had a little bit of chicken.' She got in and started the car. 'And crisps,' he muttered. 'And chocolate biscuits.' God, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut.

She looked at him fondly, as if he were a mentally retarded, but favourite relative. 'Mulder, you are such a baby.'

Right! Yeah, strike one for manliness. Good one Mulder. That went really well.

The boys piled out of the car when they got home, still high on the excitement of the evening. Brad was humming quietly, prowling and unable to sit still, he kept chattering. 'Suzy was good, didn't you think? And what about Bic Runga? How do you think they managed to get her to sing, she's awesome isn't she? I've got her album. That Santa guy, do you think he was really that fat...' Scully murmured "Mmm" and "yes", and "no", as seemed appropriate as she moved around the kitchen making a hot chocolate drink for herself and the boys. Davy was doing much the same as Brad, but he was nearly completely incoherent. He was dancing around muttering loudly; booming noises interspersed with snatches of lyrics of Christmas Carols.

Mulder sat and watched them all. 'What time does their mother get home?' he asked.

'In about half an hour,' Scully laughed. She gestured at the cups she was stirring. 'I'm hoping this will settle them down.'

'What does she do?' Mulder knew he'd been told but it had been a very long day since he'd woken at 5 am in his hospital bed.

'She's a nurse. She works part time in a rest home. Boys,' she waved to attract their attention. 'Come and sit down and have your drinks.'

'Can't I have one?' Mulder asked. 'I feel fine now. There's nothing wrong with me.'

'Good. Let's keep it that way shall we. Hot milk would not be a good idea.' Mulder snorted, unaware that he looked more childlike than the children. 'There might be some lemonade in the fridge, or what about some peppermint tea?'

'Yuck. Scully pleease.'

She sent the boys off to get ready for bed. 'No.' She put her hands on her hips. 'I think you should go to bed too.'

Mulder narrowed his eyes. 'You want to get rid of me.' She avoided his gaze. 'You do don't you.' Recognition dawned. 'You're going to phone Rod and you want me tucked up in bed so I won't do anything stupid, like going running out to help.' He stifled a huge yawn. 'Well you don't have to worry, I've barely got the strength to make it to the bed right now. I'm not going any further than that.' He gestured towards the phone on the breakfast bar. 'Go on ring him. I want to know what happened. Go on. You want to.'

They looked up as Brad wandered back down the passage wearing pyjamas emblazoned with fluorescent concrete trucks. Mulder had to hide a grin, he remembered some pyjamas, or was it boxers, with a very similar print somewhere in his past. 'Um,' Brad stood shyly, the rebellious teenager once again an awkward child. 'Thank you for taking us tonight Dana. I had a really good time.'

Scully beamed. She wanted to hug him but felt he wouldn't be comfortable with that. 'That's alright Brad. I enjoyed it too. Thank you for coming with me.' They all heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. 'Now you'd better go and get into bed. Your mom will be in any minute.' Brad bolted.

Paula spent a minute or two saying goodnight to her work mate. She was staggered to find the boys already in bed when she came inside.

'No troubles,' Scully reported. 'They were fine.'

'Hell,' Paula breathed. 'I've never managed to get them to bed after we've been somewhere. I thought they'd be bouncing off the walls.' She went to say goodnight.

Mulder continued his argument. 'Come on Scully ring him. I bet he's expecting you to call and report that you got home safely. Isn't he?' She refused to acknowledge him. 'You'd better do it then hadn't you. He'll be getting worried.'

'Mulder. For christsake..' but she picked up the phone and dialled a number she read off the top of the pad. 'Rod. Hi it's Dana.' ... 'Yes, fine. No problems. It was great.' ... 'Yes we really enjoyed it. How are things at your end?' ... 'Really,' her face lit up and she listened for awhile. 'That's great. Well I guess you won't be home for a while. Yes, she's just here,' and she passed the phone over to Paula who'd just come back into the room.

'Well Mulder,' she said softly. 'You can sleep undisturbed. They got him. Two officers caught him in the car park. A girl screamed and they caught a man trying to shove her into the back of a car.' She looked at Mulder. 'You don't seem pleased.'

'Sorry.' He shrugged, he felt distinctly uneasy about something but he couldn't explain his disquiet. 'Tired I guess.' He was tired. His body was close to pegging out, he could feel an exhausted tremor deep in his muscles. He rested his eyes for a moment, trying to decide if he needed another codeine. He felt Scully stand behind him and place her hand on his neck, rubbing gently. He groaned, letting his head flop.

'Come on Mr Custard,' she pulled him up. 'Bed time.'

Stuart Residence

Sunday 12th

morning.

Scully woke slowly, the light filtering through her eye lids gradually forcing her awake. She'd slept surprisingly well, the camp stretcher turning out to be more comfortable than she'd expected. Her mouth felt dry and her head ached. She felt more tired than when she'd gone to sleep, her body reacting to the stresses of the past week she supposed. Hell, this time last week, if you disregarded time zones, she'd been preparing for more shopping with her mother. Now she'd finally been able to sleep properly, and all she wanted to do was sleep some more.

Rolling over she looked across to the sofa bed on the other side of the room. It was empty. How the hell had Mulder managed to rouse enough to be up already? Blearily she checked her watch. It was nearly nine, not so early at all. No wonder she felt groggy.

Even so, Mulder had been so exhausted last night she'd had to help him get ready for bed. He'd collapsed into sleep, out before he hit the pillow, one foot still on the floor, his mind and body unable to take any more. By rights he should still be snoring, but that wasn't Mulder's style was it.

Scully had taken her time preparing herself for bed. She sat beside him on the bed for a long time watching him sleep. With his face in repose he looked so much younger, child like and vulnerable. It made her heart churn and that response frightened her. It seemed so much easier to love Mulder when he was vulnerable. That was hardly a healthy response to build a relationship on. And yet he had comforted and cared for her too. In his arms she had felt safe. She remembered many incidents over the years, from small caring touches, his hand on the small of her back, a quick touch on her arm, right through to full blown hugs. There was his desperate hold on her after the psychic surgeon nearly took her heart, the warm flirty moulding of his body to hers when he taught her to play baseball. Mulder loved her, there was no doubt about that. It was whether she could love him, completely and utterly, in sickness AND in health that worried her.

So she'd climbed onto her stretcher, the one she'd asked Paula for, embarrassed at having to explain their relationship, when she'd learnt that Mulder was coming out of hospital. She lay there, listened to his breathing, and in spite of her churning thoughts, quickly fell asleep.

A good hot shower later she followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. She felt, if not quite in the land of the living, at least one of the undead. The morning was warm and the sliding doors to the patio were open, letting in the scent of the garden and the muted sounds of the neighbourhood. Paula, still in her robe, was sitting at the table reading the paper. She smiled when she saw Scully and got up to pour her a coffee.

Scully sat, clutching the cup and breathing in its fragrance. 'Some one told me you couldn't get real coffee in New Zealand.' Her brother Bill actually. 'I'm so pleased they were wrong.'

Paula laughed. 'Most Americans think we run around in grass skirts and live in huts don't they?'

Scully nodded. 'Not many people know much about your country. But then most Americans don't know much about any country further away than Cuba.' What a terribly disloyal thing to say. She looked around, she kept expecting Mulder to come in from the garden. 'Where is everyone?'

Paula found her guest a bowl and pushed a selection of cereal packets across the table towards her. 'Brad's at my mother's. He goes around there on Sunday to mow her lawns and do other chores. She over pays and over feeds him and they're both happy. Davy's still in bed. We won't see him until lunch time.' She held up the paper so Scully could see the headline; "Police Arrest Suspect for Santa Parade Murder". Her face wasn't happy. 'Rod hasn't come home yet. He won't for a while.'

'What? What's wrong.'

'It's the wrong man. Rod rang last night, about three. I'm surprised you didn't hear the phone.'

Scully shook her head. 'I never heard a thing. What did he say?'

'They man they caught. It was a custody dispute. He was trying to take his daughter away from her mother. He wasn't the man.' Her face was sad. 'Another little girl disappeared last night.'

Scully's heart sank. 'No. What happened?'

'She wasn't at the concert, she was at the circus. A ten year old. She left the tent during the second half to go and get an ice cream and never came back. Her mother started looking for her after about fifteen minutes and there was no sign. They'd had a bit of a row apparently so she wasn't too concerned at first. She thought she'd run off to sulk. She asked the circus people if they'd seen her, but wouldn't let anyone phone the police until she hadn't turned up a good hour after the show was finished.'

'No,' Scully said again. 'She hadn't appeared at any of the concession stalls?'

'Apparently not.'

'Has Rod got anything to go on?'

'Not at three this morning he didn't.'

'Shit!'

'Mmm,' Paula agreed.

'Where's Mulder?'

Paula looked puzzled. 'He's still in bed isn't he?'

'No. He's up. Somewhere.'

They looked at each other, concern and suspicion dawning. 'Maybe he went for a walk,' Paula suggested. She got up and walked over to the interior door to the garage.

'Possible,' Scully watched her.

Paula opened the door, leant on the frame and chewed her lip. 'My car's gone.'

'Fuck!' Scully exploded. 'I am going to fucking kill him. Just you watch me.' She balled her fists and avoided throwing any of Paula's china. 'How the hell did he manage to drive?'

'I'll ring Rod.'

'Send him home. What the fuck good does he think he can be in his state? Fuck I knew he'd pull something. Ahhh!' she screamed in frustration. 'Jesus Christ Mulder you're a stupid shit.' She crashed her hands onto the tabletop and sank into a chair breathing hard. 'God, he's his own worst enemy.'

Paula put down the phone and looked at Scully as if she were a suspicious parcel. 'Apparently he's been at the circus and now he's out looking at the site Hinemoa was abducted from. Rod hasn't seen him since he went off to see the circus not long after he arrived at four this morning. He said he seemed alright then.'

Scully growled.

'I'm sorry Dana. He must have over heard my phone call from Rod.'

'Hmmph. Only Mulder would go out to offer assistance, right then and there.' She sighed. 'He's not still driving himself around is he?'

'No.' Paula could finally say something comforting. 'Rod's given him a car and driver.'

'Well that's something. Can you phone for a cab? I'm going to go and get him.' Not that he'd come, but at least she could try and stop him overdoing it.

Lincoln Rd

9.25 am

Constable Darryl Somers sincerely hoped that this would be the last time Inspector Stuart asked him to take a visitor home for him. He cast an anxious look over his passenger. Yep the guy definitely had a greenish tinge about him. Darryl had cleaned puke out of squad cars before and it wasn't a pleasant job, however, at least that had been in the back. This was a front seat passenger and Darryl had his bag and loads of papers scattered in the wheel well at the man's feet. Thank god they were nearly there.

At least Darryl knew who his passenger was this time. He looked at him again. One of the FBI's finest, at least according to the boss. And apparently the partner of the mad woman Darryl had driven to the boss' place earlier in the week. So okay, he was also the guy who had got hurt stopping the knife attack on that plane, so Darryl could cut him some slack, but several hours of playing taxi driver for him hadn't impressed Darryl much.

In amongst all of the hullabaloo of the kidnapping case, in the early hours when they'd done with running round like headless chickens and were starting to think sick thoughts about what might be happening to a missing little girl, the boss had told him to take Mr FBI here back to the circus and anywhere else he wanted to go.

So Darryl had greeted him brightly, prepared to be amazed by the way he worked. His reply had been a grunt, and things hadn't improved. Go here. Go there. And when they got there, what did the hot shot do? Nothing, that's what. He sat outside the circus tent for near on an hour just looking at the stars. He sat on the ground, knees drawn up rocking a little. He got up and walked right around the perimeter of the camp and then sat and rocked some more. When Darryl figured he must have grown roots he came back to the car and ordered him to take him to where the other little girl had been lifted from.

In Colombo Street he'd walked up and down the empty road, peering into shop doorways and walking along side streets and alleys. He spent a long time on St Asaph street where their only witness thought he'd seen her being taken. He had learned, as far as Darryl could see, diddly squat. The FBI's finest. Huh! It was all a big jerk off and a waste of his time.

Darryl had been pleased to see the back of him when they'd finally come back to the station. He'd taken the car back to the garage and was in the process of getting his gear out and signing it back in when he'd got the good news. So here he was driving out to Inspector Stuart's house in Halswell, again, and if the bastard puked in his car he'd never get home before it was time to sign back on tonight.

His passenger moaned. What the hell was wrong with him anyhow? Darryl wondered what had happened in the station. The man definitely hadn't looked this sick before. He hadn't looked particularly well, but now he looked positively awful. Darryl told himself he did feel mildly sympathetic but... Oh, they were here. Thank Christ!

He brought the big car to a stop outside the front door and gave the siren a brief parp to let Mrs Stuart know they were here. Cause one thing Darryl could tell, his passenger was going to need help. He went around and opened the passenger door and the guy gave him a look that would have had most people arrested for drug use. He got out shakily and Darryl gave a sigh of relief as Mrs Stuart opened the door. He turned the FBI man in her direction, got back in the car and for the second time that week, disappeared down the drive with what might be called undue haste.

Paula stared in astonishment at the sight of Fox Mulder weaving across the driveway towards her. If Dana had seemed near collapse when she'd arrived the other day, she had nothing on her partner. Paula couldn't understand how he could be standing. Then just as she formed that thought, suddenly he wasn't. Mulder's shaky foot missed the shallow step up to the entry. He toppled sideways; sideways to his left, and crashed into the wall.

Paula made a grab for him as he folded, catching the back of his sweatshirt enough to save his head from making contact with the terracotta tiles. Her mind worked fast. Years of nursing home work had taught her that once a patient was on the ground, you couldn't move him without help. Thankfully, she was nearly as tall as he was. He was still falling when moving from instinct she skewed herself under his chest, catching his weight across her back. Using the momentum of his fall she heaved them upright and carried/dragged him inside to the first refuge that offered, the recliner chair in the family room. Fox flopped, boneless, semi conscious and moaning as she pushed the seat back down and flung out the foot-rest.

Hell, these visitors were proving to be hard work!

She took a shaky breath and looked at her patient. He was obviously in agony, his short panting breaths attesting to his distress. And he looked extremely ill. Reaching for him she felt his forehead, he was cool, cold actually and clammy. His pulse was racing and erratic. She had no way of taking a blood pressure but could tell it would be low. 'Fox,' she said gently. 'Fox, can you hear me.'

'Uh,' a slight nod.

'Where are your pills?'

'Bed.' A shuddery breath. 'Forgot them.'

That might explain why he felt so bad. His arm had probably being feeling worse and worse for hours now. Long periods of pain could be debilitating. 'I'll get them. You stay here.'

'Sick,' he mumbled, making a sudden desperate attempt to get out of the chair.

'You stay there. I'll get something.' It was a close call but she got a bucket under his chin before he heaved. He had nothing to bring up except bad station house coffee, but that was painful enough. She thought he'd passed out after that, but when she brought the codeine, he roused enough to hold two under his tongue until they dissolved.

She wiped his tear stained face before tucking him up with two blankets and his arm carefully supported on a pillow across his chest. Fox Mulder was very high maintenance, she could see that. She could see why Dana was a little ambivalent.

'Scully,' the patient breathed as he sank into sleep.

'Oh dear,' Paula sighed. 'What are we going to do about you?'


	3. Chapter 3

Christchurch Central Police Station

Sunday 9.25 am

Discovering, on her arrival at the police station that Mulder had already left did very little to improve Dana Scully's temper. When she discovered that he'd gone home, not because of any display of good sense or desire to look after himself but because two constables had carried him to the car after he'd fainted in the men's room, she was absolutely livid.

She'd discovered this, within moments of entering the incident room, all those present seemed abuzz with the happening. Mulder's reputation as a wonder boy profiler was now confused, and rapidly being destroyed by his ignominious collapse. Aw, what the hell. This wasn't even their case, what the hell did it matter what Mulder did to his reputation here.

Furious she paced up the passageway to Rod's office to find him on the phone to Paula. He handed the phone to her and she heard all about Mulder's arrival home. Shit! He sounded really ill. What the hell had possessed him to run around crime scenes all night? He bloody deserved to be ill. Thank god for Paula! Shit! Shit, shit, shit. Didn't he know what he did to her?

Several deep breaths later she decided not to go home. She was mad at him and she wanted him to know it. She couldn't be mad at him if he were ill. She couldn't tell him what she thought if he were asleep. She'd let him recover a little, then she'd ream him out.

Rod seemed quite happy to have her around. She took a good look at him, concerned now for somebody else. Here was another man who was looking driven and exhausted, she'd have to work on getting him home sometime too. 'Have you slept at all?' she asked.

'No. Kathy, can you brief Miss Scully on the night's happenings.' He gave Scully a nod. 'I have to go interview the father.'

The night's happenings didn't amount to much. Kathy Ihaka was very thorough and the picture she painted was bleak. Another little girl missing and nobody had seen a thing. Kathy led her around the displays in the incident room. They stopped in front of a board that now had pictures of two girls. They couldn't have seemed more different. Hinemoa Turoa was dark and smiling. The portrait photo of Charlotte Harvey showed a girl, blond and blue eyed, and with a sneer on her face that suggested having her photo taken was something she had to do but she didn't have to like it. Scully wondered at the parents that would pay to have this photo. Surely a professional would be able to coax a happier look onto a child's face. She wondered what the girl looked like happy. She sighed. Pray to God she wasn't dead yet.

'What do we know about her?'

Kathy gave a shrug. They knew very little about her yet, her mother had been too hysterical to tell much. She lived with her mother, the father was absent, and she appeared to be a normal ten year old girl. The circus had been a long promised treat but apparently Charlotte had thrown a bit of a wobbly when she learnt that Christmas in the Park was on as well because she wanted to go to both. The tickets had cost a lot of money and she hadn't been able to get a refund the mother told then, so they had gone to the circus.

They discussed possible connections between the two girls but until a thorough background was built up for Charlotte there could be anything. They did both live in New Brighton, however they went to different schools.

Scully sighed. 'I suppose the best we can hope for is that she just ran away and she'll turn up when she gets hungry.'

Kathy looked sceptical. 'That's what the boss said too, but you can tell,' she swept her arm around the room, 'that he doesn't believe it.'

'Hmm.' Scully nodded. 'You know, I find it a little odd that on such shaky evidence as two possibly unrelated notes, he could get the go ahead to have a full team ready last night.'

Kathy laughed. 'You don't know our boss very well. He's wonder boy. He's the Commissioner's darling.' Her eyes were glowing. 'His reputation is amazing. And he deserves it.'

Wow, such devotion from the underlings. 'Why? What has he done?'

'He solves cases. I transferred here a few years ago.' She gave a wry smile, 'I married a detective.' She waved her arm across the room until she saw who she was after and pointed at a Maori man, too broad to look comfortable in his rumpled dress shirt. Which explained why a blond woman would have a Maori name Scully thought. 'It's not ideal,' Kathy said. 'We're often on different shifts, different cases. But at least we're in the same city now. And we can always find something to talk about.' She patted her flat stomach carefully. 'It's not for much longer now anyway.' She poked her tummy proudly at Scully, ' I'm pregnant,' she told her.

'Congratulations,' Scully smiled. 'Don't work too hard will you.' She didn't need to be reminded of happy families right now. 'What were you saying about Inspector Stuart?'

'Oh yes. Before I came I'd found out a bit about him. He was known as a good cop. He's a clever detective and everybody likes him, that sort of stuff. Wiri, my husband, he'd just made it into CID and he liked working for him. Then just after that the Sounds murder happened and no one ever thought we were going to get anyone for that. That's what made his name. He just didn't give up. He didn't let anyone give up.' She gave a depreciative shrug. 'It took over a year but we got the bastard. Coupland was convicted, even without the bodies. And it was all down to the boss. He'll get this one too, just you wait.'

'What happened?'

'Oh of course, you won't know. It was three years ago, a couple of teenagers went missing from a New Years Eve party at a lodge in the Sounds. The Marlborough Sounds,' she clarified. 'It's a pretty wild place with lots and lots of bays, and plenty of bush and water to hide bodies in. There were major searches around the shorelines, people combing the bush, that sort of thing. They had to have left on a boat, there was no other way out, not unless they went overland and it was all real rugged country. They just disappeared. They never showed up New Year's morning at the boat they arrived on. At first their mates just thought they were off somewhere, you know, it was a warm night.

'Let's see, the police were called on the second and CID arrived about the fifth, once Picton police were sure it was more than just a missing persons. It took a long time, it was good policing, asking questions, eliminating boats and suspects, but we got him. He'd lured them to his boat with a promise of a bed, there were more people than beds on their one. He'd wanted her for sex we reckoned and had to take him along too. He'd done whatever he'd done and dumped the bodies at sea, the day or so after they went missing. They've never been found. Forensics found they'd been on the boat, well she had anyway. The boss put it together and made a case. Coupland got life.'

'I see. I'll have to treat Rod with more respect when I meet him on my way to the bathroom in the morning.'

'Oh god!' Kathy slapped her hand over her mouth. 'You're staying with him aren't you?'

'Don't worry. I don't think you've said anything he wouldn't have wanted to hear to his face.' Scully turned back to the board and the work at hand. 'Now, do you think you can find me the report on the place where Hinemoa's body was found. I've been thinking, why did he float her down the river? Why not just put her in the sea? Maybe he lives by the river or has access to a boat shed, is there a property that backs onto it that he could have used as a place to keep her?'

Kathy was suddenly excited. 'Find it, we might even be able to find Charlotte in time. I'll get right on it.'

'Hang on,' Scully said. 'That could be one lead but keep thinking about the river in other ways. It might mean something to him. The water might be significant. There could be significance to the surf board thing too? What do you think?'

'I'm thinking, I'm thinking.'

Their thinking took them so far that at eleven Scully went to see Rod and put their suggestions before him. Some of their thinking impressed him and he sent Constable Kathy Ihaka and Detective Constable Wiremu Ihaka out in a car to investigate the estuary and lower river for possible properties. He refused to allow another constable to phone the local surf clubs asking after suspicious behaviour on the beaches, particularly regarding people with boogie boards. He thought that was a little too nebulous to chase up at this time.

When Kathy had left Scully stayed in the office and watched Rod sag in his chair. She started to speak but he held up a tired hand to stop her. 'I know what you're going to say. Save your breath.' He checked his watch. 'Have you ever read Robert Ludlum? "The Bourne Identity", "The Odessa File"? They're spy stories.'

She wrinkled her brow. 'They sound familiar.'

'Hmm. The thing I remember from several of them; the hero, he's going through hell but has to keep going. But he always makes time to rest, because "sleep is a weapon".' He swung his chair around and stood up.

'I'll go down and give the troops a pep talk. Then I'm going home for a sleep.' He looked at her. 'Alright?'

'Good. That's great. I'm just not used to hearing a man say something so sensible.'

'Right. Well here's some more sense for you. I appreciate, hell we all appreciate what you've put into this but,' his glare was direct, ' I have plenty of people here being paid to think hard on a Sunday.' His voice became gentle. 'I think there's someone else who needs you now.'

Touche'.

11.30am

As she turned into the Stuart's street Scully passed Davy on his bike peddling furiously in the other direction. The day was clouding over but if anything it seemed hotter that before and Davy looked quite red beneath his purple cycle helmet. Scully gave a toot, but of course he didn't respond. She felt a little silly. He didn't appear deaf. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was.

She let herself through the connecting door to the kitchen. There was no one there. 'Hello,' she called softly.

'In here,' Paula answered and then Scully saw her, sitting by the window in the family room with some bright needlework in her lap. Paula held her finger to her lips and Scully walked in quietly. Mulder was sleeping in the other recliner chair; his head turned to one side, mouth open, his breath coming in little puffs.

Scully watched him. He looked grey and unwell, tight stretched skin over his cheek bones and dark bruises under his eyes. She laid the back of her hand on his forehead, stroked his hair. Paula joined her and together they watched him before moving, of one accord, toward the kitchen.

'Shit,' Scully said moving to fill the kettle.

'Yeah,' Paula agreed. 'Dana I'm worried about him.'

'God Paula. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to deal with this.'

'Oh for heavens sake. I could, I did, it's fine. Stop apologising and let's work out what to do.'

'You think he should be back in hospital don't you?

'If we haven't managed to get any fluids into him in the next hour or so... and something that could be called food by tea time, then yes. He's dehydrated. He's ketotic, smell his breath, his body is starving. When was the last time he ate anything that actually stayed down?

'I don't know.' Scully sat down with a whump, resting her chin in her hands. 'His last proper meal must have been on the plane. He was only on soup and jello in the hospital. Damn it. If he'd just stay resting and give himself a chance.'

'I know,' Paula patted her shoulder. 'Men are silly creatures sometimes.'

'At least your one seems quite sensible. He said he'd be home by twelve.'

Paula laughed. 'See. He knows what he should do and he made you believe him. I know better.' She put tea in the pot. 'Did he give you that "sleep is a weapon" crap? He won't be home till,' Paula looked at the clock, 'about three.' She held out her hand. 'Money on it.'

Scully laughed and shook. 'So we sit on them.'

'Yep. If we can keep hold of them they haven't got a chance. Was Rod alright?'

'He was looking pretty tired but he seemed on top of things. They were following several lines of inquiry.' She snorted, 'They still haven't got anyone who saw anything. Do you think I should wake Mulder and get him to drink something?'

'Hold on a few minutes. I sent Davy to the shop for some lucozade.' She filled the teapot. 'He only just got up. You wore him out last night.'

Scully nodded in response to her unspoken query about the tea. 'He's a neat kid. We really enjoyed taking them, I was glad we could do it.'

'Good.'

The two women sat in a companionable silence. The wind was picking up and with it the heat. Scully plucked at her tee shirt that was starting to feel too heavy. She thought about taking a shower and changing into another of the dresses she'd brought. But then she was in someone else's house and she couldn't use up all their hot water. Too bad. She wondered why they didn't have air conditioning in the house. She didn't realise that it wasn't a common place appliance here.

'It's the norwester,' Paula explained, seeing Scully's discomfort. 'It could get really hot, but the way the cloud's built up, it probably won't get any worse than this. If you get the sun as well, it can be too hot to move. It's to do with the way the dry air comes over the Alps.' She sipped her tea and thought of something. 'Dana. Who is Sam?'

Damn. Scully shut her tired eyes a moment before answering. 'Mulder's been dreaming. Was he really distressed?'

'I've seen worse but yes. He was moaning a lot. He was calling out Sam's name. "No, no" came into it quite a bit too. I held his hand and just kept talking. Did I do right? I didn't want to wake him and he settled back down?'

'You did right.' Scully felt so tired.

'Is Sam his brother?'

'Sister. Samantha. She was abducted when she was eight. Mulder was twelve and he was babysitting at the time.' Scully sighed. One moment in time with such huge repercussions. The pebble in the middle of the ripples. 'He doesn't remember what happened and the case was never solved. He carries a huge load of guilt.' Succinct and to the point she told herself. You know the story so well you can reduce the unspeakable to four easy sentences. What does that say about you and Mulder?

'No! Poor Fox.' Paula's eyes were wide with horror, but partly from a realisation of the implications. 'Now here he is in the middle of a case about disappearing little girls. Oh no.'

'Precisely. Paula, I think maybe we should go and stay somewhere else. I really, really appreciate what you've done for us. Hell, I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here.' Scully's eyes filled with tears and a lump formed in her throat. 'I've got to keep him away from this case. He just can't take it right now.' She was struggling not to cry. 'I don't think I can handle it right now.'

'But where would you go?'

'A hotel I guess. The hotel we were originally booked into has offered us a week's free stay. We'd be all right. They'd have room service and satellite TV so we wouldn't even need to go out.'

Scully tried to speak normally but she was choking up. 'If I removed the phone, Mulder couldn't even call a cab...'

'Shh,' Paula put her arms around Scully. 'I don't like the idea of you dealing with this on your own. You could make yourself ill again. You need to look after yourself too so don't go and do anything rash right now okay. I've got an idea... I need to talk it over with Rod first. Alright?' She sat back and handed her a wad of tissues. 'It will work out, I promise.'

'Damn.' Scully muttered quietly. 'I'm not usually like this. It usually takes an awful lot to get me upset.'

'I don't think I'd like to see what you call an awful lot then. Don't worry about it.' Paula poured more tea. She found this couple intriguing, obviously in love and deeply involved and intimate with each other and yet they didn't appear to have a physical relationship. Work ethics just didn't seem to cover the situation, and if that was the case, what were they doing on holiday together? What, was one of them gay or something? They seemed mature normal adults; well maybe Fox didn't quite, but close enough. 'Rod told me about the ring. I think perhaps your emotional involvement has just gone up a notch. That's probably made things more upsetting'

AAARRUUGGHHAA!!

'Jesus!'

Both women jumped, spinning around to face the open sliding door onto the patio. Scully started grinning, something she hurriedly stifled behind her hand when she saw Paula's face, set like thunder as she glared at her youngest son.

Davy and his bike, and it's very noisy horn were just skidding to a screaming halt, a brake handle caught by the trellis on the far side of the patio. Throwing himself over the handlebars he attempted to vault a potted shrub and ended up crashing in a scrambled heap of plants, soil, pottery, and supermarket bags, his bike sailing finally to rest on top of the pile.

Feebly grinning, and trying desperately to maintain his cool he reached up and squeezed the air horn on the handle bars. PAARPhhh... A trickle of spilt milk leaked from the end.

Davy's face fell. Scully couldn't hold it any longer. She burst out laughing. She laughed and laughed, unable to do anything to help as Paula extricated her son and gave him a thorough telling off. The trellis was shattered, only held together by the leafy vine that grew through it and several shrubs and pot plants had come to grief. Scully could tell that the garden meant a lot to Paula.

All through the tirade she could see Paula struggling to hold onto the sternness required, while her mouth twitched at the corners and the light danced in her eyes. It had been a terribly funny fall, quite worthy of a Marx brother's film. Scully watched Davy shuffle from foot to foot and try and avoid his mother's face, because that way, Scully realised, he could avoid knowing exactly what she said. He was a cunning one, Davy. Kids, they were fun...

Then she lost that train of thought completely. She heard Mulder call her name.

In the dim light of the curtained family room Mulder's eyes looked huge. He was struggling to rise out of the lounge chair but couldn't work out how to stow the foot-rest. He had his legs spread on either side and every time he lent forward the sprung mechanism folded partially, allowing him no purchase. Scully pushed him back into the chair. 'Lie down.'

He was still wearing the clothes he must have put on in the early hours of the morning, jeans and a ratty old grey sweatshirt. That would hardly have enhanced his image with the local police either. 'Easy Mulder, just stay there.' The heavy woollen blankets had fallen to the floor in his struggles. She picked them up.

'What is it? What happened?' Mulder was alarmed, his voice croaky.

Scully felt his forehead and cheek. It was a soothing touch. 'It's alright. It was only Davy showing off with his bike horn. He likes things that make loud noises.' She pulled on the neck-band of his sweatshirt and placed her hand on the skin of his chest. 'Mulder, aren't you hot? It's a really hot day.'

He shook his head. 'No. I'm all right,' temperature wise anyway. Nothing else felt right. He sighed. 'I feel bad.' He leaned back into the chair. 'My arm's sore but not too bad but I feel,' he thought about it, 'achey, like the flu.' He closed his eyes. 'God I'm tired.'

'Can't think of any reason why,' her voice bored into his brain. She's mad at me. 'You're not feverish which is a miracle, knowing you. Headache?'

He blinked. 'Yeah.'

'Nausea?'

'No. Not at the moment.'

'Good,' said Paula coming in with the apparently undamaged lucozade bottle. 'Because you need to drink. You're dehydrated, that's why you've got a headache.'

Mulder looked up in horror. 'Scully, how did you throw your voice like that?' But the movement wasn't a happy one. He sagged, 'You're ganging up on me.'

Scully held the glass while Paula poured. 'Drink it Mulder.'

Mulder looked at the gooey orange stuff. He hated these sorts of fortified fizzy drinks. He tossed up his options. The two women watched him. Sensibly he decided that he had no option at all and sulkily took the glass. When the stuff touched his lips he was suddenly aware of the foul furry feel to his mouth and realised he was desperately thirsty. The sweet, faintly chemical taste barely registered, he needed it so badly. Running his tongue around his mouth he held the glass out for more but the second cup didn't go down so well. Now he could taste it, and he felt it slosh in his empty stomach. ' Uh...'

Scully took the cup away. 'That's okay Mulder. Have a bit more in half an hour or so, we don't want you sick again. It needs to stay down if it's to do any good.'

'You are ganging up.'

'Yeah. You should see what we've got planned in the food department.'

'But not right now,' Paula said watching him. 'I think you'd be more comfortable in bed Fox. Come on,' she flipped the chair upright and the footrest down in one movement. 'We'll detour past the loo on the way.'

Mulder found himself not only toileted but showered as well.

The toilet was bad enough.

'Scully, I can manage this bit on my own.'

'Oh no you don't. I'm not leaving unless you're sitting down.' Before he could protest further he found his jeans and boxers around his knees. Dumbfounded he offered no resistance as she pushed him onto the seat, then she left the small room and shut the door.

He sat there mortified, but worse was to come. Job finished, even if it had only been a feeble, strong smelling trickle, he firmly buttoned his fly and forcing himself to stand tall stepped back out into the hall. Scully reached for him and touched, he leant into her embrace, only to recognise in the next moment what her intention was as his sweat shirt was wrenched over his head and little more gently off his arm. Paula started taping a large plastic bag over the bandages; the shower he realised was already running. Woozy and sick he was too slow to react so that seconds later his pants were around his ankles again and Scully was urging him to step out of them and into the shower where a plastic stool had been placed under the stream.

'God Dana,' Paula breathed as she handed Scully soap and a washcloth, 'there's nothing to him. He's so bloody skinny.'

'I know,' Scully replied as she ran the soapy cloth over his back and chest, 'Up,' under his arms. 'He nearly died from a serious viral illness only a couple of months ago. He hasn't really recovered.'

Hey, Mulder thought, when did I stop being here? She squatted, avoiding the stream of water and soaping his legs. God Scully. This is me. I'm naked here and I feel awful. What are you doing?

'Hell, no wonder he's collapsed now. He's got no reserves at all.'

Then Scully looked up and saw the hurt in her partner's face. Her heart sank; it wasn't only water running down his face. Damn, she hadn't been thinking. He was ill, but he wasn't unconscious, she'd been callous. Catching Paula's eye she motioned her out.

'Mulder I'm sorry.' She reached for a bottle of shampoo and poured some into her hand, she still had to finish the job. 'Close your eyes.' She massaged the suds into his scalp and rinsed it off while he sat woodenly. He seemed determined not to forgive her. Damn. She could have made this nice for him, or at least not unpleasant. She could hear the hitch in his breath as he tried not to cry, but she was hot and bothered too, and damp and sweaty from being too close to a shower with her clothes on. She just couldn't call on the patience needed to deal to his hurt ego. Giving up she handed him the cloth. 'Wash between your legs,' she instructed and turned to find the towel. Wrapping him in it as he stumbled out a few moments later she sat him on the edge of the bath while she dried his hair with another towel. He needed to be hugged but she couldn't do it.

'That wasn't nice Scully,' he said sadly.

'I know. I'm sorry. We weren't really gossiping about you.'

'You were. Like I was a piece of livestock that doesn't measure up.'

'No. No, not like that at all. I was just... I guess it was nice not to be alone in being worried about you. Paula's a nurse. She knows how to look after people. And she's seen men in showers before too.'

'But not me. And I know you've seen me in all sorts of situations too.' He looked up, his eyes full. 'I didn't like it Scully. Why're you mad at me?'

'For godsake Mulder,' his withheld tears seemed the last straw. 'It's your own bloody fault. If you'd stayed in bed instead of racing off in the middle of the night to solve some case that has got nothing to do with you... Why the hell can't you look after yourself? Fuck Mulder. I'm doing my best.' She wrenched off the plastic bag, removing all the hairs where the tape had been stuck.

'Ow!'

'Shut up. Stand up.' She towelled him off as though she were intent on removing his skin, his shaky stance not quite up to her vigorous attack.

'Scully,' he grabbed at her arm. 'Stop. I'm dry.' He swayed, 'Stop. Please,' his voice faded. 'I need to lie down.'

'Fine.'

With his arm over her shoulder and the towel sliding off his scrawny waist they made their way to his bed. Mulder was starting to feel desperately sick and unutterably sad. She's tired of looking after me, he thought. Paula had made the bed and turned it down and it looked so good, the teddy he'd brought from the hospital waiting to welcome him. The room had been closed all day too and was noticeably cooler than anywhere else in the house. Paula was laying out a tee shirt and some clean boxers. She stood nervously as they entered.

'Fox, I'm sorry. We were thoughtless.' She came over and hitched up the towel noting his pallor and unhappy face. 'My oldies I work with are so used to being showered that they don't even blink. I just didn't think.' She held up the clothes. 'I hope you don't mind. I found these in your case, I didn't know what you liked to sleep in, you didn't have any pyjamas but I thought these would do.'

'Thank you,' Mulder said thickly. Her kindness was likely to achieve what Scully's shortness could not, he was going to cry. Paula took over from Scully. Sitting him on the bed she gently pulled the shirt over his arm and then his head while he snuffled quietly. 'You should feel fresher anyway,' she murmured quietly. She slipped the boxers over his feet and pulled them up to the towel, then lying him down she slid them up over his hips, removed the towel and pulled the sheet up, seemingly in one easy motion.

The bed felt cool and safe. Lying down felt wonderful. The large bear on the other pillow growled reassuringly and he reached for it, turning his head into its soft fur.

'Mulder.' Scully's voice pulled him back from the edge of sleep as she moved the teddy. 'Mulder, drink this, then you can sleep.'

He looked up to see her holding another glass of lucozade. 'No. Scully, I hate that stuff.'

'Mulder. Drink this or you're going back to the hospital and onto a drip.'

'Uurgh, no,' he buried his head in the pillow. 'No,' as she shook him.

'Mulder! You are very sick.' Her voice was rising. 'If you can't drink you'll have to go back to the hospital.'

He looked up and saw that she meant it. He struggled to sit up and she helped hold the vile liquid to his mouth. He forced down a mouthful and gagged, the sticky stuff running down his chin and onto the clean tee shirt.

'Mulder.' She said it like she thought he'd done it deliberately.

Paula cut in, she could see Scully was near the end of her ability to cope. 'What do you like to drink Fox?'

'Iced tea,' he answered instantly.

'Right, we can do that. You drink this now and I'll have some iced tea ready when you wake up again. That's a perfect drink for a day like this.'

Mulder closed his eyes and concentrated on getting the drink down. And on not crying any more.

Gentle hands laid him back on the bed and when he opened his eyes he met Paula's dark concerned gaze. Scully had gone. 'Dana's worn out Fox. She's been badly frightened and she's very worried about you.' She touched his stubbly cheek in a move that must be taught as "standard caring move number 2" in all doctor and nursing courses. 'So you need to rest and get well and not do anything else to distress her. Can you do that?'

He was sniffling again and she wiped his eyes with the corner of the bath towel. 'What's wrong with me?' he cried. 'I hurt my arm, why do I feel so bad?'

She smiled and tucked the teddy bear back next to him. 'Do you really not know?' She could see he didn't, sometimes even the brightest men could be really dense. 'It's like Dana said, you've worn yourself out. You had a serious illness very recently, then less than a week ago you nearly bled to death.' She took his hand and stroked his hair with the other hand, gesture number 3. 'It's only Sunday, on Wednesday you were still on life support and in renal failure from what I can gather. It's not just your arm Fox; it's your whole body that's been injured. You need time to heal.

'And you need fluids and energy to repair yourself. Can you drink a little more.'

So he did. Then he fell asleep, the bear held tight against his chest and his mind mulling over what she had said. Scully was scared, she was worn out. It was all his fault.

Stuart Residence

3.35 pm

Blue, soft and warm, surrounding, encompassing containing. Above and below, from the lightest pastel ice to the deepest dark green, above and around and through. Water. Water. He was it and it was him. Floating, moving rocking with the waves, part of the waves, inseparable. Waves spume laden and wicked where the wind and the air, the air, life giving breathing air met the water, the blue. Fighting suddenly, no longer content to ride with, be with the tides, fighting to reach the air. Fighting to separate from the sea to breath and loosing. Going down. Sinking back. Calmly down. Way, way down. No more air, no more breath, just blue. No need to fight, just sliding. Darker and darker, sinking, down.

He passed them. He passed the girls. First Charlotte, her blond hair spread radiant around her face. Her skin clear and cold and as pretty as a water washed painting. She opened her eyes and spoke but her words were lost in the blue. Then Hinemoa, lady of the lake, floating, arms outstretched pointing so that he turned to see. The water was changing, it was thickening, taking on the feel, the taste of blood. Suddenly he wanted to fight again, to leave the blood, he couldn't live here. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Not yet, he wasn't ready.

He couldn't see now. He was groping, trying to find his way up. His reaching arm encountered a hand and he pulled on it, pulling the body of the child towards him until he could see her. Tangled dark hair obscured her face, which he suddenly desperately didn't want to see. The hair was dissolving into worms floating away in the blood. He panicked but couldn't turn away as her hand came up and with a totally familiar move flicked the wormy hair back behind her shoulders. Her decaying lips moved. 'Hello Fox,' Samantha said.

Mulder jerked upright in bed, heart pounding, breathing hard, desperate for air. His stomach roiled and he clenched his jaw fighting to hold it down. After a few seconds he realised where he was. Wiping his face on the sheet he started instant damage assessment. It appeared he didn't have to worry, no one was in the room and no one seemed to be coming running. He can't have screamed then. His heart beat was slowing and the urge to vomit that he'd woken with seemed to be easing too. Dreaming, he swallowed. God, that was a new one.

He lay back and worked on collecting himself, the images still fresh in his mind. Water and the ocean, as if he'd been part of it. Dozing again he scrambled to hook a thought that was drifting like seaweed on the edge of his mind. The ocean...

Jesus! The ocean. He could feel it. He could feel him, he needed to catch it...

Leaping out of bed he raced into the kitchen. He needed paper to write. He couldn't see any, not even a shopping pad, oh for his laptop. A computer. The computer in the family room. Tearing through from the kitchen he made a beeline for the machine. It was on and playing a flight simulator game all on it's own. Without even bothering to try and shut the game down Mulder hit the re boot button, impatiently jiggling about until an unfamiliar home page arrived on screen. Sitting himself on the edge of the chair he grabbed the mouse and started looking for a word processing program. Bingo, another second to load up and he was away. "The sea, the sea, the ocean. Cleaning them, loosing them..."

Jabbing at the keys, frustrated by being unable to use his left hand Mulder still managed to have the screen filled within minutes. Immersed in his task he was completely oblivious to Paula's arrival or her surprise in finding him there. He'd filled several pages before he became aware of being called and fought his way out of the ocean to acknowledge her.

'Fox. What are you doing?' She could see the concentration it required for him to focus on her. She watched his agitation with concern. What the hell was happening now? ' Fox?'

'Profile,' he explained, the muscles of his mouth slow to respond. It took tremendous effort. 'The killer. I can feel him. Now. I woke up and I know...' His hand tapped the keys, desperate to return to his train of thought before the ephemeral knowledge was lost. 'Need to.' God he didn't have time to explain, just write. "I must go down to the sea again..."

Paula watched in disbelief. She peered over his shoulder. What she was looking at seemed total gobbledygook. And horrifyingly familiar.

"They've gone. they're gone. i've lost thsem I'll nsver ssse her aagain

rthe sea breeze waas coming in aand thwere was aa xhild making a sancastle on a beach. WAAs it me or was it her.

It's clean and pure and fresh. They were innocent. I am innocent. innicence innocence"

Paula couldn't see any more because suddenly he scrolled up and started deleting huge chunks of whatever it was, typing furiously before it had barely disappeared. He was no longer aware she was there. Hell, what was this, his hands were flying over the keys, the ends of the fingers of his left hand stabbing inaccurately and dodging around those of his right. He was unstoppable. Was he mad?

'Fox!' She grabbed at his right hand and stilled it. 'Stop. This isn't good.' His legs jiggled, his body desperate for motion.

'No.' He was nearly frantic as he dragged his mind back to try to explain. 'I have to do this. This is what I do. This is how I do it. Don't stop me. Please.' He ground his eyes shut and forced a breath. 'Please Paula. I'm here, I'm okay. I know what you're thinking. Just let me finish so I can let it go. Please.'

She made a rapid assessment of his physical and mental state, noticing that he'd turned away from his precious writing and was watching her, pleading, but apparently fully lucid.

'Okay.'

With a sigh he dived back to the key board.

'But Fox.'

'What!'

'Have a drink.'

He held out his hand, drained the glass he was given and sank back into the abyss.

4.00pm

Turning into his driveway always brought Rod a sense of well being. Home was a haven, a place where he could stop being a top cop and be himself. Here he didn't have to mind his Ps and Qs, didn't have to be aware of the implications of an action, well not the same way anyway. Here he was Dad, with the attendant responsibilities and duties that that entailed. But it wasn't just duty, he gained huge pleasure by travelling through life beside his sons, supporting and guiding, arguing and laying down the law. Fatherhood had surprised him with its joys from the moment the wriggly newborn Brad had been placed in his arms.

At home too was Paula. Rod still marvelled at the thought that he had his best friend, his best lover, and probably just about the best person he had ever met all rolled into one person and married to him. And she was a looker.

God he was tired. He was raving. He turned off the car and sat. Safe. Alone. He probably shouldn't have driven, he wasn't with it. Where was everyone, someone should have come to greet him by now? Wearily he stepped out of the car and made his way inside. A cup of tea, some toast or maybe some cake if there was any, then bed. For a few hours at least.

The house was dim with most of the curtains pulled, standard procedure on a norwest day in an attempt to keep the heat out. It made him feel more sleepy. He was surprised to find his wife standing in the doorway to the family room. 'Hi,' he said quietly and walked into her hug.

'I knew you wouldn't come home before three,' she told the skin on his neck. She drew him back and looked him over. She was tall enough to look him in the eyes, and his eyes were tired and sad. 'Not good,' she whispered.

'No.' The taping of the computer keys caught his attention and he broke from the comfort of her gaze. 'What's going on?'

Paula nodded towards the computer where Mulder's gangly figure jerked, his whole body involved in what he was doing. 'I think we're seeing genius at work,' she said softly. With his hair sticking out and uncoordinated typing motion it looked as though a trainee puppet master were in control. 'He says he's doing a profile,' she explained, 'but he's quite manic. And what he's writing doesn't make any sense.'

'How long's he been like that?' Mental instability made Rod extremely uncomfortable.

Paula checked her watch. 'About half an hour I think. He was in bed, sound asleep, I checked a bit after three. I was putting washing away and came out to find him like that. He could answer me when I spoke to him, but he didn't want to be here, he was desperate to be... where ever he is. Do you think we should stop him?'

'Where's Dana?' Rod's tired mind would barely function. He didn't know what to do here. It had been nearly forty eight hours since he'd had anything other than a cat nap.

Paula nodded towards the patio. 'She and Davy are both sound asleep on the picnic blanket under the plum tree. Davy was showing her all his aircraft books.'

Rod had to smile at that. Davy and his obsession with planes could put anyone to sleep. 'Wake her.'

But they didn't have to stop Mulder because suddenly he came to a halt. He'd finished. He'd caught it. The storm was gone. He flung himself back, away from the screen, away from the madness, but the old chair wasn't up to that and the next moment he was on the floor, suddenly terribly aware of how sick he felt, how long it had been since he had last taken codeine. He was so sore, it seemed like years.

He gazed at the unfamiliar carpet, reacquainting himself with his place in the world. From under the sofa a tiny man stared at him, a miniature diver, complete with mask and oxygen bottles. Feet appeared in his field of view, two pairs of feet. One pair were bare, long and slim and sported shiny pink toe nails, the other were larger and in dress shoes. Turning his head away from the lego man he looked up as the feet's owners squatted above him. Hell, he swallowed, what had he been doing? How badly had he hared out? Why couldn't he remember?

'I'm alright,' he told them in answer to their concerned questions. 'I'm okay,' but they seemed a long way away, their speech virtually unintelligible. Moaning he allowed Rod to help him up, his arm felt like it was being crushed by rollers that were tearing the flesh away from the bone. Then as he came upright, it was if he'd had water in his ears and they had cleared. He could hear, he could comprehend, and he could speak.

'Chair or couch?' Rod asked.

'Couch,' he replied. He lowered himself, curled up with his arm tight against him. 'I'm okay,' his voice was a gasp. 'It's just really sore.' Paula gave him the tiny pill and he slid it under his tongue. The drug dissolved straight into his blood stream and had a near instant effect. He lay back with a sigh, eyes closed, recovering.

The click of the computer keys made him start awake. 'Don't look at that,' he shouted alarming Rod. 'Please. I'll get up in a minute and turn it into something you can use, it won't make any sense yet.' His voice was sad. 'You'll think I'm really off my rocker.'

Rod held up a placating hand. 'I'll just save it for you? I won't read it.'

'Okay.'

Rod turned back and with a sigh lowered himself into the recliner, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt. 'Don't race to get up and finish. I'm going to have a rest now, I'm sure you need a rest too.' That was rather diplomatic Rod thought. The other man looked like shit, he didn't need another total collapse on his hands.

Paula carried in an icy jug and poured them both her iced tea. She was rather proud of it, she's made the recipe up and she'd ended up with a drink that was cool, fragrant with mint, balanced by the sweetness of pineapple juice. The tea itself gave it a kick and stopped the other flavours from being too strong. She'd already drunk several cup fulls herself and would need to make some more before long if this heat kept up.

Mulder sipped appreciatively. His nausea seemed to be directly related to his level of pain and now that was easier his stomach felt fine. 'This is good. I didn't realise you would go to the trouble of making something yourself.' He held out his glass. 'Can I have some more.'

'Of course. I like making things, don't trouble yourself.

'How about you love?' she asked Rod. You're nearly asleep. Do you want anything to eat first?'

'Mmm,' Rod mumbled, eyes shut. 'I do but I'm too tired to care. What have we got?'

'I've got some smoked chicken, I could make you a salad.'

'How about something with eggs, those bread things?'

Comfort food was needed was it? She knew her man. Others saw the tough nut, the boss cop with (apparently, someone had told her) balls of steel. She got to nurture the little boy, the one that lurked within and gave the tough cop his inherent goodness. She smiled. ' You mean French toast?'

'That's it. Could you?'

She dropped a kiss on his forehead. 'Of course. You deserve it. What about you Fox? Can you manage to eat something?

Mulder smiled. 'French toast sounds wonderful. My mom used to make that,' his voice went sad, 'when I was little.'

Rod and Paula exchanged glances, we'll talk later they said. 'Right,' Paula said. 'I've got loads of bacon. Coming right up.'

'Um.' They looked at Mulder again. 'Can I not have any bacon.' He was embarrassed.

'Sure,' Paula said puzzled. 'How about I put on some fruit and lots of syrup?'

'Thanks.'

Then Rod twigged. 'You're Jewish?'

'Yeah. Sorry?'

'Sorry. Why sorry?'

Mulder shrugged, he didn't really know. It just felt like one more way he was putting these people out. 'I think I'd probably like bacon, he said feebly. 'I just don't think Mom would like it if...' God, how pathetic. He sounded like a two year old.

'It's alright Fox. You don't have to explain. I'll make you something nice.' She left.

Rod kept his eyes on the man curled on his sofa, the one whose bare legs were way too long. He wondered if Mulder realised he was only wearing his underwear. 'Paula said you were writing a profile?'

Mulder looked back warily. He thought about how to explain what had come over him but he couldn't explain it to himself. 'I gave up profiling,' he said finally. Rod waited. 'Sometimes,' Mulder said, 'it gets to me. I could treat it like a job, do it by the numbers, but then I'd see that that way was all bullshit and I'd see so much that no one else could...' He swallowed. 'No it wasn't like that. Profiling is a science. I'm a psychologist. It's a matter of taking examples of someone's known behaviours and extrapolating them, predicting what they may do in the future. And it works. But you know that.'

Rod nodded. 'I do. Good profiles have helped me on cases more than once. But you do something else don't you?'

'I have a gift,' Mulder snorted. 'If you'd like to call it that. I soon realised that I know things I couldn't possibly know. I don't know how but my subconscious seems to process information differently to other people. I have a 200 IQ,' he said disparagingly, 'but that's nothing to do with it, I think I just know how to think..,' he struggled desperately for a phrase, '... Dark. Like a killer. I kept coming up with the goods, kept catching killers but god...' His breath was rough. His meaning was abundantly clear. The toll he'd had to pay was way too high. 'I was too good. They wouldn't let me stop, they wouldn't let me take time off. Always another case, another consult. "Just a few minutes Mulder. Look at this for us Mulder."' His eyes filled with tears. 'Always another missing kid...

'Someone told me once that what I did was like channelling. I don't know. I don't know how I do it, but it's a dark horrible place it happens in. And when it happens like it did today I can't stop it.' He looked up at the older man. 'You do think I'm mad. That's all right. So do most people that know me.'

'Except Dana.'

Mulder grimaced. 'The jury's still out on that one.'

Scully surfaced, drawn to the kitchen by the delectable smell of bacon frying. Davy was right on her heels.

Paula grinned at them. 'I suppose you two want some too?' Dana was looking better she thought, although somewhat rumpled.

'Yes please Mum,' Davy begged.

'Who are you cooking for?' Scully asked.

'The men,' Paula indicated the living room. 'Rod's just got home and I want to catch him before he crashes.'

Davy had caught that. 'Daddy's home?' He saw his mother nod. 'Daddy's home.' He shot off to find him.

'Fox is awake too,' Paula said, 'but...'

'But?' What was wrong.

'He's been writing a profile.'

Scully grimaced. 'Is he alright?'

Interesting response Paula thought. Not, "Is it any good", but "Is he alright". 'Well for a bit there I did wonder. He was manic. He wasn't all there, not on this planet anyway.'

Scully snorted. That was a good way of putting it. 'How is he now?'

'He's flat out, exhausted on the couch, but he's lucid and he's hungry. Let's strike while the iron's hot. Tell you what. You take these into the men,' she handed Scully two plates, one laden with golden squares of toast and bacon, the other, smaller, two slices of toast with stewed peaches and syrup. She reached into the fridge for more eggs. ' I'm going to make another round for us. Bacon?'

Scully smiled. What a treasure. 'Please.'

They ate companionably in the family room. Paula took the other chair while Scully and Davy sat on the floor leaning back against the sofa. Mulder managed awkwardly, one handed, his plate on a small table in front of him. He found himself able to eat very little. He was no where near as hungry as he'd thought he was. He nibbled at a corner of the toast and found that the peaches slid down nicely, he would have been happy with just that. He could see Scully watching him out of the corner of her eye so kept plugging away until he just couldn't take any more. He gained much more pleasure and a different sort of nourishment from Scully's closeness. Are we ever going to kiss again he wondered.

'This will do us for tea then will it?' Paula asked.

'Sounds good to me,' said Rod reclining the chair and settling down to sleep. 'All I need now is some milo.'

Paula grinned. 'Sorry, can't do. We haven't got enough milk. We would have but Davy had an "accident" with it.' She told Rod all about it, much to Davy's embarrassment. 'I'll see if Brad's still at Mum's. He can get some on his way home. Pass me the phone.' The cordless phone was on the coffee table next to Rod. 'Rod!'

'Huh?'

'Go to bed.'

'Okay.' He lumbered up.

'Pass me the phone please.'

'Oh. Okay.' He passed it over. Paula dialled and wandered into the kitchen, preparing for a good chat. Rod said mumbled goodnights to the others and turned in time to see his wife stiffen. 'What?' he asked, his instincts roused. He saw her face as she turned and his heart dropped.

'He's not there,' Paula said. 'Mum says he went home just after lunch.'

All hell broke loose.

Scully worked out later that it probably only took ten minutes to track Brad down at a friend's house. During that time, especially when his parent's were trying to work out who to call first, and discovering that he wasn't at his best friend's house, the fear in the room was palpable. No one could bear to voice the thought, but it was in everyone's minds that the perp had targeted the family of the policeman who was after him. None of them would be surprised when this turned out to be an abduction. Paula phoned Brad's friends, quickly, barely explaining when she discovered he wasn't there, frantically moving on to the next phone number. All the while Rod was giving her instructions, already thinking through who he'd put on the case and what they'd need to do. Scully and Mulder tried to occupy Davy.

And then all of a sudden the tone of Paula's voice changed. At first she just sounded wildly relieved and then as Brad must have been put on the phone she went ballistic. Brad could have been in no doubt as to how thoughtless, stupid, and unthinking he'd been. He was also thoroughly grounded, for roughly until his twenty fifth birthday.

Scully found her eyes were full of tears and Mulder realised he'd barely breathed the whole time. He didn't think his heart could take this. Maybe he didn't want to be a parent.

Sunday

Mid evening

Scully leaned back on the pillows with a sigh, the book she had just finished reading dropping into her lap. She and Mulder were on Mulder's bed where they'd been for the last couple of hours, trying to give the family a bit of space. Mulder had been dozing, lulled into somnambulance by the interminable cricket commentary on the television. Scully's movement roused him and he rolled over smiling. It was still hot so he didn't race to hug her, contenting himself with a pat on her arm. She smiled back and leaned in to give him a brief kiss on the lips. "Later," the smile said. 'How're you doing?' she asked.

'Hot. But better. Lots better.'

'Good.' They lay side by side enjoying the company.

'Hey Scully. What are we going to do?'

Scully laughed. 'I was just thinking the same thing. It will depend a bit on what happens at the hospital tomorrow.'

'You don't think I'll have to stay in do you?'

'I don't know Mulder. The surgeon might want you to have physio, you've hardly got any movement in your fingers have you?'

Mulder tentatively moved his fingers and winced. 'You could look after that couldn't you? You'll be able to take the stitches out?'

'Well that's what I'll be arguing anyway.' She smiled at him. 'I want to get on with this vacation.' There was a whole lot of promise in that sentence. 'And besides, I think we should get out of this house. Paula and Rod are really kind, but they've got enough on their plates right now.'

Mulder nodded. 'I want to finish that profile. At least it's something I can do.' He was half way up, intent on getting back to the computer when Scully but her hand on his chest and pushed him back.

'In the morning will be soon enough.'

Taking a look at her face he didn't argue. 'I think we should use some of that gift money to buy them a big present. And then, what do you think? I say we give the rest of it and the toys to the local deaf foundation. Except for Bozo here.' He patted the large bear that was on the other side of him. 'I want to keep him.'

'Bozo? You've called him Bozo? Mulder, that will need another whole seat on the plane.'

'He can sit on my knee.' He threw her a challenge. 'What would you call him then?'

'Bed bug,' she said facetiously. 'Bed bug bear.'

'Bed bug? Nah, he's too big.'

'That's the problem Mulder,' the bear was currently taking up a third of the bed, Mulder more that a half and Scully was squeezed into a small space near the pillows. She didn't need to say any more on the subject, not just then, it could get too complicated. She knew Mulder got the point because he moved over, making more room for her legs. 'I know. How about Custard?'

There was a knock on the door, saving him from a reply.

'Hello,' he called.

Tentatively Paula poked her head around the door. 'Are you guys awake? Can we have a word.'

'Yeah,' he glanced at Scully. 'Sure.'

'Rod's going to head back into work soon. Why don't you come and have a bit of supper with us. We, ahh... We'd like to ask you something.'

'They want us to leave,' Mulder muttered to Scully as he got up and let her help him into his jeans.

Mulder decided not to beat about the bush. 'You'd like us to go wouldn't you?' he said as he sat himself at the kitchen table.

The bread maker had been doing its thing and a fresh loaf was sitting in the middle of the table surrounded by sandwich makings.

'Hell no,' Rod said from where he was putting together an elaborate salad sandwich. 'Of course not.'

Paula poured boiling water into the teapot and set it on the table, sitting down beside her husband. The air was finally cooling off and the open patio door brought in the breeze, fragrant from the garden. Outside an incredible sunset was playing across solid lenticular clouds standing out from the Southern Alps. Inside was homey and comfortable while outside seemed incredibly foreign in the dying light.

Relieved Mulder reached out and helped himself to some bread, opting for honey rather than anything of high nutritional content. He kept his eye on the couple across the table, watching as volumes of unspoken communication passed between them. It was something that lots of couples did when they knew each other well he realised, not something unique to Scully and himself. So what, he wondered, did they want to ask?

Rod finally broke the silence. 'Mulder, Dana, we'd like to ask you a favour.' There was a long pause, the sound of crickets filled the evening air. 'It's quite a big ask, but I hope you'll at least consider the idea. I think you might even enjoy it.'

'I'm not letting Mulder get any more involved with this case,' Scully said.

Well that's telling him Scully. Mulder glanced at her. She got his, Is that so? message.

Yes, she answered just as silently. And yes I can make you.

'It's nothing to do with the case,' Rod said quickly. 'At least not directly. Though I certainly appreciate your help. In fact if I got you a laptop we could be in touch that way. Your input would be valuable. I'd keep you up to date.'

'Rod,' Scully said quietly. 'What do you want us to do?'

Paula laughed. 'What my husband, who by the way can give a mean briefing, is trying to say is: we would like you to take the kids away.'

Mulder audibly gulped on his tea.

'I know it's a big ask. It's just...' Paula spread her hands. 'You saw what happened here today. It's too hard for Rod to work if he's worried about the boys, and how can he not be with this maniac around. He needs to be able to put everything into finding the girl and catching the guy.'

Rod smiled. 'I am capable of speaking for myself you know,' he said wryly. 'What we were thinking... We have a holiday cottage booked at Bush Bay in the Marlborough Sounds. It's for the week before Christmas. It's a really lovely place. We found it a couple of years ago when I was on a case up there and we just love it. At this stage it doesn't look like I'm going to be able to take my leave and I'd hate for the boys to miss out on their holiday. So we wondered if you'd take them. I'd really like them away from here as soon as possible.'

Paula took up the request. 'I rang the lady who manages the cottage to see if we could get it earlier. It will be available from Thursday. Well I know you want to go whale watching so I thought, depending on what your doctor says tomorrow Fox, you could go up to Kaikoura for a couple of nights, take the boys and do the whale watching and then go into the Sounds on Thursday. It won't matter if the boys miss their last week of school, they're hardly going to be learning much.'

'Well...' Scully said.

'It's a beautiful place. The beach is gorgeous.' Paula was trying to read their faces. She knew they would love it, and it would be a perfect place for convalescing. 'It's a place we'd have sent you to at least see anyway, it's incredibly scenic. We'll be paying for the cottage and your food.'

'The fishing's good,' Rod added. 'You could probably live on fish if you wanted.'

'The fishing would have to be exceptional if I were going to feed us,' Mulder laughed. 'They'd have to be leaping on to the beach.'

'There's something else you should like,' Rod said with a grin. 'There's supposed to be a ghost in the bush behind the cottage.'

'Now you've got me,' Mulder matched his smile. 'How can I resist.'

'We'd keep in touch. There's a phone on and I'll find a laptop with a modem so we can use email. Paula could come up next week when her leave starts and you could leave then if you wanted.'

'If it's as nice as you say,' Scully said. 'You might need to use a crow bar to remove me.'

'We'll go,' Mulder emphasised, just in case they'd missed Scully's point. He took her hand knowing instinctively that she was pleased with the idea. 'We like the kids, that'll be no problem.' He wasn't sure that he really wanted to share a scenic spot and Scully with Brad and Davy but it couldn't be too bad. Could it? 'This place sounds just what we were wanting.'

'Maybe you should take some time to think about it,' Paula jumped in guiltily. 'I mean, please don't feel that you have to repay us in any way because you don't. And both of our boys can be fair sods at times, Davy's deafness can be difficult too. You might not feel you want to be responsible for them, especially somewhere new. And especially Fox, when you really ought to be looking after yourself.'

They could see her marshalling her thoughts, wondering whether or not to push any further. She was saved from making a decision when the phone rang. 'Stuart,' Rod answered. He went still for a moment and they all turned to watch. Then he gave a war whoop that would have put a Maori warrior to shame. Beaming he turned to the others. 'They've got her. She's alive!' He started issuing instructions already walking towards the garage and his car. 'I'm on my way Bob. Scene of crime only in there until I see it okay.' He checked his watch. 'ETA twenty minutes. I'll see you soon.'

Paula handed him his jacket. 'Where?' she asked.

Rod grinned. 'A warehouse in Ferrymead.' He beamed at Scully. 'It backs onto the estuary. Thank you.' He gave Paula a kiss. 'I'll phone. Don't wait up.' His gaze was squarely on Mulder as he said it.

Ten minutes later Mulder was sitting on the patio watching the stars come out. His arm throbbed and he was tired, but he felt well. He felt better than he had in a long time. When Scully came out of the house and pulled up the chair next to him he felt content and complete. She reached over and found his hand, her smaller fist fitting snugly inside his. Leaning together, her head fitted easily on his shoulder. 'We fit,' he said quietly. He could feel her smile. 'Of course,' she answered.

Their kiss this time was long and sweet and much more than Mulder imagined a kiss could ever be. Her lips burned a path to his soul, opening his being with her tongue. And yet, and how could this be, it barely whispered of erotica, just passingly stirred his loins as it filled him with a promise of something he'd never imagined. Then just when he thought he was going to implode she gently broke away and he gasped, catching his breath and his whirling emotions. Whoa! Cynical Mulder bounced back. It must be the drugs. 'Nothing in my life ever felt like that.'

'mmm,' Scully purred.

Oh hell, he'd spoken aloud. 'Uh... Scully?'

'Look Mulder,' Scully pointed up. 'A satellite.'

'It's me. I'm in orbit. I think my heart just stopped.'

Scully's lips came towards him again and he nearly backed away, but they moved this time for the old familiar forehead brush. He put his hand to the back of her head, pulling her down until they were cheek to cheek. He rubbed gently, inhaling her scent, brushing her face with his lips.

'Come on G-man,' she said quietly. 'Bed for you.'

'Ooo. I was hoping you'd say that.'

'Not tonight Josephine.'

He knew that, but there was no harm in trying. He stood up. 'Anyway. I've got a date with a bear.'


	4. Chapter 4

Surgical Ward

Surgical Ward

Christchurch Hospital

Monday 13th

10.05am

'And what about your bowels Mr Mulder?'

'Excuse me?'

'Your bowels,' Mr Sharples reiterated. 'When did you last move your bowels? I expect you're constipated. Are you?'

'Um,' Mulder reddened as he remembered the painfully unproductive sit he'd had not long before the doctor finally arrived. He didn't want to talk about it, not here in front of all these people.

But he didn't have to say anything, the surgeon was explaining. 'Mr Mulder is on codeine for pain. What is the most common side effect of codeine Miss,' he studied the mass of students in front of him, 'Cassidy?'

'Constipation Mr Sharples,' Miss Cassidy said. 'It relaxes the smooth muscles.'

'Now, Mr Parker, what were we just discussing prescribing for Mr Mulder a few minutes ago?'

'Ferrous Glutamate doctor. It can also have a constipating effect. I suggest,' the boot licking young man jumped in anticipating the next question, 'that we also prescribe a laxative.'

'Hmm,' Sharples winked at Mulder. 'Good thought. I feel that in this case a more aggressive approach might be needed.' Even having seen the wink Mulder was feeling exceedingly nervous. 'Mr Parker, a rectal examination to discover the extent of the problem with perhaps an enema while you're there.'

This was not turning out to be a good morning.

Mulder had slept as if trying to make up for his life time of insomnia. He had still been deeply asleep when Scully had had to wake him. So he was feeling groggy as well as uneasy when they got to the hospital. They discovered that the doctor would see him as part of his rounds so Mulder would just have to sit on his bed, which was still covered in toys, and wait for him to arrive. This was frustrating after all the effort to get there by eight as instructed. The toys had at least kept them a little amused. One of the nurses had removed the bandages from his arm and left it wrapped in a green surgical towel. He felt uncomfortably naked like that, his skin so oddly sensitive he was afraid to even rest his arm on his lap.

And there they had sat for close to two hours, except for Mulder's time in the bathroom. Scully went downstairs to buy some coffee and came back with a newspaper so at least they knew a little bit about the case. Charlotte had been admitted to hospital, the police were following several lines of inquiry and amazingly " The Press" had been reliably informed that two American FBI agents were helping the local police with the case. Inquiry head Detective Inspector Rod Stuart would neither confirm nor deny the claim.

They had been chuckling over the thought of that when Mr Sharples and his entourage had finally arrived. The surgeon had been delighted with the arm but not so delighted with his patient's general condition. He investigated the suture lines closely. The redness was fading from the suture lines, replaced instead by a pale yellowish bruising. He made Mulder make a fist, turning his arm and wrist in several directions. Mulder winced. Any movement was painful, pulling oddly all along the muscles in his forearm. The surgeon ran a pin around his hand discovering places on the fingers and palm that were completely numb.

'Don't panic now Mr Mulder. I expect the sensation to return but nerves can take several months to regenerate.'

'Months?' Mulder was horrified. Scully put her hand on his arm. It will be alright. We'll talk about it later, her touch said.

One of the students was encouraged to describe exercises to help him regain use of his hand. Mulder found himself with a tennis ball to squeeze, whenever he remembered to do so, but was allowed to handle nothing smaller than the ball and lift nothing unless it was a fork.

Mulder had asked if it was all right if the fork held a piece of steak and that was when the trouble really started. Mr Sharples had said that he thought in Mulder's case it had better be a very large piece of steak. He had then lent forward and rolled down Mulder's lower eyelids, examining the colour of the skin. He pressed Mulder's nailbeds and stood back arms folded regarding him.

'Tell me Mr Mulder,' he said. 'Did you have a quiet relaxing weekend?' Mulder didn't answer. 'Well. Did you?' He held up his hand. 'No, don't bother answering. I know all about your visiting of crime scenes and about passing out in the toilets at the police station.' There was a hastily stifled buzz from the medical students. They were obviously wondering what the hell the patient had been up too. Speculation on the topic would keep them busy for days.

'How?' Mulder asked cowed.

Sharples grinned taking at least ten years off his age. 'Easy. My daughter was working in the incident room yesterday morning. She spoke very highly of you Dana,' he said. 'She's not sure what to make of you though.' His look suggested that he was still trying to make sense of Mulder as well. 'My son-in-law however has heard many good things about you.'

Mulder was looking puzzled. 'Kathy?' Scully asked.

'That's right,' Sharples said proudly. 'I heard all about it last night.' But he didn't say any more about his daughter and Scully wondered if he knew of his impending grandparent status. 'Now,' Sharples was back to business. 'If you plan on any more crime fighting Mr Mulder, don't! You have been through a major trauma. You are not well enough for anything more energetic than eating and sleeping.'

'It's alright,' Mulder muttered. 'I've already heard this lecture.'

'Good. Have you got the message yet?'

'Yes. Dammit!'

'You're anaemic, hardly surprising. I think...' he pinched his lip. 'Sister. Can we get a unit of packed cells? Fairly soon if we can, I think Mr Mulder would like to get out of here before too long.' He turned back to Mulder. 'That will take a couple of hours but will make you feel much better. I think you'll find it time worth taking.'

'You're letting me go?'

'Yes. I'll add iron pills to the list. We'll keep up the codeine for a few more days then, panadiene. He looked across to check one of the students was taking notes. He checked the flip board. 'I'd like you back on Thursday to take the sutures out and see how you're going.'

'Um... Doctor?' Mulder muttered looking around panicked. 'Scully?'

Scully stepped in. 'Mr Sharples. I am a medical doctor. Would you mind if I removed the sutures? It's just that we've been offered the use of a holiday cottage in...'

'The Marlborough Sounds,' Mulder supplied.

' ... And we'd really like to get away and start enjoying our vacation.'

'Wonderful,' Mr Sharples had exclaimed. Then he'd brought up the subject of bowels.

'Me?!' Parker's cheesy smile slid to his toes. 'A rectal and an enema?'

'Yes. As you are so helpful, I'm sure it would be good practise.'

Hell. This sounded for real. 'I'm fine sir really,' Mulder said quickly. 'I'm sure I can go. Soon. I'm fine really.'

'Oh. Thank you Mr Mulder. Sorry Parker, you miss out now but I'm sure I'll keep you in mind for next time. We'll put a laxative in with the cocktail. What do you think?'

Mulder smiled with more than one type of relief.

Sharples had another close look at his suturing. 'If you're going to be in the Sounds I'll let you go swimming. The water up there is wonderful. It will be good exercise. Only in the sea though, stay out of swimming pools.' He looked over at Scully. 'I'll organise some dressing packs. Dry it well and rebandage. If there's any sign of infection... Hmm.' the thought worried him. 'Any sign at all, get him back to hospital. Blenheim would be your closest. An infection would be serious.' He stared at Mulder. 'I don't think you've got the reserves to fight it. A wound break down would undo all our good work. I'll get the notes ready just in case they need to be faxed through. You should be alright.' He straightened up. 'Can someone redress this now. Leave the hand free this time. Alright Mr Mulder, have your blood and then you can leave. I'll have your discharge notes ready by then. Oh, if something hurts, don't do it.' He turned to his students. 'That's good advice to anyone, anytime. The body has pain for a reason, to stop you hurting yourself. Mr Mulder, enjoy your holiday and try to stay out of trouble.' He swept out of the room with the students, taken by surprise, flustering at his coat tails.

Five minutes later one of the students had come back to insert a butterfly needle in the back of Mulder's hand for the blood transfusion and then there was nothing to do again but sit and wait. It was only half an hour before the packed cells arrived and were set up, but by then Mulder knew how many holes there were in the ceiling tiles, in particular and on average, and how many for the entire room. The blood was set to run over two hours. He was working on total number of tiles needed for each floor of the hospital based on the assumption that the utilities room and places he hadn't seen all had the same type of ceiling when Scully picked up a pink bunny and got a very devious look on her face. 'Mulder, you know how we said we were going to donate this stuff to the deaf foundation or whatever it's called?'

'Yeh?'

'Well, don't you think the kids ward right here could maybe use them too. What do you say to giving them half of it?'

'Damn right Scully.' He sat himself up a bit. 'When I've finished here we'll take them down, I reckon they'd let us give some out personally. There's sixteen toys, why don't we take them all. We can keep the money for the deaf kids.'

'No way G-man. You sit there like a good boy. I want to play Santa.' A nurse came in to take Mulder's recordings, a half hourly requirement for a patient receiving a blood transfusion and Scully quickly explained what she wanted to do and asked for help. Mulder never stood a chance. He was chained to the bed as long as the IV was running, and short of pulling it out; a look at Scully proved that wasn't an option, there was nothing he could do about it.

Scully leapt into action, pleased to have something to do. The thought of playing interminable rounds of hangman didn't do much for her. Help was very forth coming. All the staff from the ward crowded into the room to tell Mulder they thought he was being very kind and generous and that the children would be really delighted. Colin thought it was a good idea too and decided to donate his toys as well. He was allowed up quietly and much to Mulder's disgust, managed to talk one of the nurses into taking him to the kids ward in a wheelchair. The charge nurse of the children's ward was made aware of their impending arrival.

At the last moment Scully rescued a copper coloured fox. 'I think I'll keep this,' she said quietly, tucking it in beside Mulder.

'Scully?' he said threateningly.

'Back soon,' she told him. 'Look after my fox for me. Don't let him do anything stupid.'

'Oh I won't. I promise.'

Laden with bulging pillowcases, Scully, Colin, and Fiona, the student nurse went to spread joy among the children.

It was nearly 1.30 by the time they left the hospital. Mulder had been sleeping when Scully and Colin arrived back from the kids ward, both of them high from the generosity of giving. Scully was actually contemplating some permanent voluntary involvement with sick children, she had found the task so rewarding. Colin had just been totally awed by the level of illness some of the children were enduring. His guts were giving him hell after being up so long, but he now had a different perspective, he wouldn't be complaining again.

Because of the presence of Colin and the two morose old men, Mulder and Scully hadn't been able to discuss anything that Mulder really wanted to know. As soon as they made the parking garage, doctor's notes, scripts and handfuls of get well cards in hand, Mulder started. The blood had given him a new lease of life. All that haemoglobin whizzing around his body was making him bouncy as a toddler.

'Mulder, not now,' Scully sighed. 'I'm hungry. I'm tired. I want to get the hell out of here and never see a hospital again.'

'How far is it to the beach?' Mulder asked. 'Come on, we might as well do some sightseeing.' He saw Scully's face. 'Gentle sightseeing.' He wheedled, 'Come on, there must be a cafe at the beach. We can sit and watch the sea.'

Scully looked at her watch. She liked the idea. 'Paula needs her car back by three.'

Mulder slid into the passenger seat. 'We can do that. Pass me that map.' He waited until she was out on the street and headed in the right direction. 'Now tell me about Charlotte.'

Scully sighed, she knew she couldn't put him off but the memory of the pale little girl was haunting. From what Mulder had told her of his catatonic state Charlotte was too much like the way Scully imagined the twelve-year-old Mulder after Samantha's abduction. 'She's not going to be any help for a while,' she said gently. 'She's completely withdrawn. She's not responding to anything, she's just lying there, staring into space.' She looked at her partner. 'I couldn't ask too many questions, I'll get it from Rod later okay. But chances are she'll be fine. She'll wake up when she's ready, and with good psych care she should be fine.' Better than you were, she thought. 'I left her the rabbit.'

It wasn't until the landscape suddenly opened out revealing a large open body of water on the left-hand side of the car that Scully realised what Mulder was up to. To the right and ahead of them were the Port Hills, the remains of an extinct volcano that perched on the very outskirts of Christchurch City jutting into the sea. To their left the waters of the Heathcote and Avon rivers ran into a tidal basin that opened into the ocean about a mile ahead of them.

'Mulder. This is the estuary!'

'This is the way to Sumner Beach Scully. We have to go past here. There is no other way.' He looked completely innocent. Before she could acknowledge this innocence he proved it wasn't. 'Here. Stop here.'

Growling Scully did as she was asked. She pulled up beside a boat shed on the wide gravel verge. Cars obviously stopped here all the time. Sighing she didn't wait for what Mulder had to say but got out and leaned on the hood. The tide was about half way she judged, going out if the race of water in the centre was an indication. A man was fishing from a dingy just out from them and several people were working on small boats already stranded by the tide. The water was an opaque reflection of the sky and the sun was warm and pleasant on her shoulders. She felt Mulder behind her. 'Tell me,' she said.

He leaned next to her. ' You smell nice.'

Huh? That wasn't what she was expecting. 'Are you trying to come on to me Mulder?'

'Maybe.'

He sounded hurt and she regretted her choice of words. 'Sorry Mulder.' She patted his leg. 'I thought I was going to get chapter and verse on Hinemoa's journey to the sea.'

'I'm not always a hard assed investigator.'

'I know.' She did know. It was just that right now he was so wrapped up in these abductions that he'd caught her by surprise. 'Why have we stopped here?'

'Okay,' he grinned. He held up the map and flapped it back towards the warehouses and buildings behind them. 'Charlotte was found at number 20 Ferrymead Close, that's an old brick making works that's been used more recently as a storehouse for a building firm. It has a boat ramp and is, I think, just out of sight up there where the river curves.' He took a breath and took a note of the height of Scully's eyebrows. Okay so far. He turned and faced towards the sea. 'Hinemoa was found out there in the breakers. Look how fast that water's moving. How long do you reckon it would have taken for a floating object to get from there,' he pointed, 'to there?'

'About an hour actually.'

'You think?'

'I know. Forensics had a play around with a weighted dummy and a surf board.'

'Oh.'

'Come on Mulder. This isn't getting us any lunch. How much further is it anyway?' They got back into the car and she decided to have a bit of fun. She leaned way across until she was well into his space. He backed away unsure. 'Smell my neck'

'What?' She watched as his eyes bulged with shock, then she grinned as their colour lightened to tiger gold. 'With pleasure.' His mouth lifted in a smirk and he gave a good sniff. Scully had a sudden flash of an interrogation room and Mulder announcing that someone was wearing his favourite perfume. It hadn't been her. 'Mmm.' She forgave him now. It was all he could do to keep his tongue from darting out and licking her. She giggled slightly and sat up, satisfied with the effect she'd had on him. 'That was money well spent then.' She held her wrist to her nose enjoying the expensive scent. Smirking she threw the car in gear and drove off. Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his seat and wondered what the hell was going on.

They found not just a cafe at the beach but a cafe literally over the beach. Built on piles over the sand the veranda was a perfect place to watch the waves roll in.

Scully ordered a ham salad sandwich while Mulder went for a burger and chips. The servings were huge. Scully's sandwich was made with homemade bread the size of a dinner plate and overflowing with goodies. The burger stood nearly six inches tall. Mulder's eyes boggled. This was exactly what he wanted.

It was just what he wanted until he'd managed three messy bites, then suddenly his stomach just didn't want any more. There was nothing wrong with the food, in fact the whole thing was delicious, he just couldn't eat. He played with it, picking it apart and taking desultory nibbles of the meat. He hoped she wouldn't, but of course Scully noticed.

Her hand came down over his. 'Are you alright?'

'It's hard to hold that's all. I don't want beetroot and sauce and stuff on the new bandage. It's easier to eat it with a fork.'

'Uh huh.' She didn't buy it. 'Try and eat a bit more. Your bowels will never work if there's nothing in them. Okay?'

Oh gross. 'Yeah. Sure.' That'd be the problem then.

The sea was a gorgeous greeny blue just barely curving into white edged breakers. A large house sized rock sat just off the beach, connected to it by a strip of sand. On top of the rock was a stumpy round little building like an abbreviated lighthouse. There were caves in the base of the rock and children ran in and out of one, dodging the waves. From where they sat they could see the coastline curving north for miles before getting lost in the heat haze.

Overhead seagulls swooped and cawed, flocking in and scraping loudly when Mulder threw them pieces of his bun. He breathed in the scent of the sea. It brought back childhood, the smell that ran through all his life at the Vineyard. It had been there even when you couldn't see the ocean.

His life had never seemed particularly easy, his brain, his mind, had always made him different, had made him defensive and closed him off from other children his age. He could read before anyone else, knew things that the others didn't. He always had to be on alert, making sure he got things wrong, trying not to be too clever so that he could fit in. Sam had been the only one he could truly relax with. When she'd been taken it hadn't been just his sister he had lost, what he had lost had been his innocence, his ability to be comfortable as himself. After Sam was taken and his parents withdrew, there was no more warmth in his life. The ocean at the Vineyard was the cold grey heaving Atlantic. That ocean pounded remorselessly onto windswept dunes. This Pacific seemed gentle in comparison, the glassy green swells plashing onto the beach like children's toys. He had no doubt that this ocean could cause death to unwary mariners but today at least, with the gentle breeze and the sun shining… he looked up into Scully's anxious glance, aware he'd hazed out for a bit, …and with Scully beside him, this ocean was positively benign. She was another person who accepted him as he was, the only other person who ever had. That was so precious. But she didn't know did she… When are you going to tell her, his censor asked. He had some unpleasant things to tell her, but not yet. Oh god, maybe never.

She was standing, finding money, preparing to leave. She was so lovely. She wouldn't forgive him. Would she?

'I want to walk in the sea.'

'Mulder. We haven't got time. Paula needs her car.'

'Oh I forgot.' The sea was calling to him. He felt a need to connect to it and be part of it. He sighed, 'It will have to wait.'

Scully took his hand to lead the way out. He looked so dejected. 'Don't worry. Tomorrow we're going to Kaikoura. That's got plenty of ocean. And this Bush Bay sounds wonderful, you'll get plenty of chance to get more than just your feet wet.'

Scully had a quiet bet with herself and heading home, Mulder didn't let her down. They'd crossed the causeway and were nearly past the estuary when Mulder looked up and said, 'turn right here.' Without comment Scully did as she was told, glancing quickly across to register the surprised look on Mulder's face. 'Second right after this one isn't it?'

His voice was puzzled. 'Yeah.'

'Okay.' She entered the road and slowed right down as they approached the cluster of police vehicles parked alongside the road. 'I'm not stopping though. Have a good look. This is as close as you get.' Both of them fixed their eyes on the square warehouse, one of many on the street. The only thing that made this one stand out was the yellow crime scene tape draped across its front. That and the swarms of police and associated other people hanging around.

The building backed onto the lower tidal reaches of the river, presumably its boat ramp was at the back. It appeared to have no windows except for some high panes of glass on one of the side walls. It had large roller doors across the front high enough to allow easy access for large trucks. The doors were presently open to the dim interior showing shadowy figures scurrying about in various activities they could both guess at.

'Is Rod here?' Mulder asked.

'I can't see his car. But we can't stop anyway. It's quarter to three. We have to get this car back.' She expected argument but she didn't get any. Curious she looked over at her partner to see him hunched down in his seat, his fingers worrying at his bottom lip. His look was one of intense concentration. 'Mulder? What are you thinking?'

'Have we heard how come they didn't get the perp last night? Was he there and he got away or what?'

'I don't know. I haven't had any update today. You know that.'

'Sorry. We need to get back. I need to talk to Rod.' He held up a hand. 'On the phone, don't worry.' He went back to giving his lip a hard time. 'Something's bugging me.' He straightened up and gave a frustrated sigh. 'I want to get on with this profile. Hell. I've only got tonight to do it.'

Scully fought her way clockwise around a roundabout, something that felt completely wrong, and found the right exit. 'Mulder.'

'Hmm?'

'Why are you doing this?'

'What?'

'Putting so much into this case? You know you don't have to. In fact you know you shouldn't be doing it at all.'

'Ha.' Mulder gave a rueful laugh and turned to look at her. He studied her profile, unused to being able to study the left side of her when she was driving. Her hair sat slightly differently on this side, she looked subtly different. She was dressed differently too, open necked blouse in a sea colour, and shorts in a deeper green. Her feet, down there on the pedals, at the end of her smooth muscular legs were wearing boat shoes with no socks. She looked… different, not quite "his" Scully any more. He contemplated her question and decided to give her a version of the truth. 'I do it,' he said sadly, 'because it stops me thinking of other things. It's like the way I need the TV to help me sleep. It's sort of white noise.'

'What things,' she asked softly.

What else could she have said he wondered. 'Not now. I'll tell you later. Maybe.' He looked at the map ending the conversation. 'If you take a left here, I think it'd be quicker.'

Stuart Residence

3.30 pm

Mulder sat in front of the computer contemplating the screen. He'd found the file Rod had saved for him but hadn't opened it yet. 'Scully,' he called. 'Do you think they'd mind if I remote checked my email?

'I'm sure that's fine,' she answered from the kitchen. The next moment he could hear some piece of heavy duty kitchen machinery running. She came through a few minutes later with a tall tumbler full of what looked like a milkshake. She handed it to him. 'Drink this.'

'What is it?' he took a cautious sip.

'Call it egg nog.'

'Heavy on egg, hold the nog?'

'Something like that. Only one egg though, don't worry.'

It tasted alright, thick and slightly fruity. It slid down easily and he drank half the glass.

'Drink it all.'

'In a minute. Whatever you've got in here, it's filling.'

'Probably. Banana and yoghurt.'

He winced and contemplated the drink. 'I notice you didn't tell me till I'd had half of it. You really are worried about me aren't you?'

'Yes.' She contemplated him and then teasingly prodded his arm. 'I've got to get some food into you. I like my men with meat on their bones.' Back before the virus had struck he'd been slim but powerful, his muscles defined and attractive. Now he was just skinny. She could circle his wrist with her fingers. Tears appeared in her eyes and she blinked them away. 'Did you find your email?'

Mulder saw the tears and pulled her in for a quick hug. 'I've got a rude message from Frohike. Do you want to read it?'

She shuddered. 'Pass. Are you going to do your profile now?'

'I guess.'

She looked at him quizzically. 'What's wrong?'

He rubbed his face with his good hand and then carefully flexed the fingers on the other one. He sighed. ' I want to do this. I'm really close to something, I can feel it. I just… I don't like…'

He reached for her again and leant his head into her stomach. He moaned softly as she caressed his hair, her arm tightening around him. 'It's like Alice's rabbit hole. I have to drop down into a dark place and every time it's harder. You've seen me. I'm not me. I don't know what I am. I'm not them either. I'm just dark and it hurts. There's so much badness there. It always hurts.' He snuffled slightly.

'Don't do it.'

'I have to.'

'No you don't. I know you feel you have to help on this case. But you still can. Do a standard profile. I'll help you. Use what you've got to work one out by the book.'

'I'm quite sure Rod already has access to that sort of profiler. He doesn't need me for that. This country doesn't strike me as being backward. No.' He straightened and drew breath. 'I can do this for those girls. And then I can let it go.' He looked at her intently, willing her to understand. 'It won't leave me alone till I've finished.'

She dropped a kiss on the top of his head. ' I'm not going to leave you alone until you're finished then either.'

'Good.' He was inordinately pleased. 'I need you to pull me back.'

'Count on it.' She collected her book and settled herself on the recliner, behind him so as not to distract him. She was not quite out of sight.

An hour or so later Scully glanced up from her book, startled by a low moan. Mulder was leaning forward, his head buried in his hand. She realised she hadn't heard any clicks from the keyboard for several minutes. She recognised that posture. Oh God, please, not one of his headaches. He hadn't had one for over a month now, she'd hoped they'd stopped. Moving softly she came up behind him just as he sat up and wincing attempted to type some more. 'Mulder?'

'Nearly done,' he grunted screwing his eyes shut and painfully opening them.

'Stop Mulder, don't do this.' She pulled his body back against her chest.

'Nearly done.' Feverishly he rubbed his temple. He put his hand down and tapped awkwardly one handed. 'God!' He growled in frustration and pain. Tap tap tap. Tap tap. Intake of breath, tap tap. Scully wrapped herself around him, willing the pain to go away. As she watched he lost the ability to type. "…is not likely to allow himsslf to be easily captured in spite of his desire to be stpped Suspect shoulf be teatedwth etcxreme cauion.jhh nnm" He was randomly stabbing at the keys, stubbornly trying to finish his work. He couldn't do it.

'Ahhh,' Mulder folded over.

She hugged him briefly. Then tilting the chair back she used it to drag him to the sofa and as gently as possible tipped him onto it. He curled up tight.

'Mulder?' She put her hand on his head, quickly checking his pupils then running her fingers firmly over his scalp, a movement that gave him a focus on the outside of his head. It had proved to help in the past. 'Is it the same as before?'

'Yeh,' a breathy gasp.

Well at least they knew what to expect. 'I don't suppose you brought the pills with you did you?'

'Didn't think,' he could barely speak, 'I needed them.' The pain in his head was intensifying as though his brain was a solid swelling that was forcing the sutures of his skull apart. His face, his teeth, even his hair hurt and he felt as though something surely had to give.

'No,' she agreed. 'It's been ages, although I'm not terribly surprised. We'll try the codeine. It should at least take the edge off it.'

Mulder's headaches had been crippling in the weeks following his run in with the alien artefacts and the virus. They seemed to last from one to about three hours with intense pain, photophobia, irritability and nausea. Then he'd vomit, fall asleep and wake, usually, pain free. At their worst he had suffered three in one day, barely recovering from one before the cycle started again. A barrage of tests had found no physical cause. The physician had finally suggested treating them as migraines, in spite of the lack of evidence to suggest that that was what they were. It was a suggestion that had been extremely successful. But it had been weeks since he'd suffered like this and it had not occurred to either of them to bring the migraine tablets with them.

Scully fetched the codeine and a bucket from the laundry. If this was true to form, he'd throw up sometime in the next hour then he'd sleep it off. Oh Mulder. She placed a cool cloth of his brow and rubbed soothing circles on his back. This isn't fair.

The codeine did help with the pain and Mulder dozed. Knowing it was only a brief respite Scully made the most of it. She ran through the profile he was paying such a high price for. She spell checked and looked for anything that might make him look bad. Astonishingly, apart from the last few paragraphs it was not just well written but brilliant. God this man was exceptional. How did he do it? She finished the conclusion for him, saved the piece and fiddled until she managed to get it to print.

She went back to her partner and refreshed the cloth. What the hell was so bad that he had to do this to himself rather than think about it? She wasn't sure she'd ever get to the bottom of everything that caused him pain. Was he worried about proposing? Or was it that the myriad bad experiences he carried in his unforgiving memory would not leave him alone? He was starting to get restless as the nausea intensified. He looked at her dumbly, resigned to what was to come; wishing it would hurry up so it would be over. They'd been here many times back in September. 'I printed your profile,' she told him.

'I heard you. What did you think?'

'I think you're one clever bastard.'

He gave a weak smile. 'I am, aren't I?' He groaned and tossed his head, eyes closing. 'It's going to be soon. Can you hold my head?'

She sat on the sofa arm and took his head between her palms, applying gentle pressure. She could feel his pulse thumping rapidly at his temples. 'At least,' he gasped, 'I can't hear what you think any more.'

'Just as well Mulder. I always thought telepathy was over rated. I'm not at all keen on you discovering that when I'm giving you "the look" as you call it, I'm actually wondering whether or not you're wearing those silk boxers I gave you for your birthday.'

'Scully!' He snorted and tilted his head backward to look into her amused blue eyes. Bad move. He grabbed hold of her hand and clung to it as the world tilted and swung. His breath came in short pants as the band tightened around his head and his stomach fought demons. ' Oww…'

'It's alright love. Lie still.'

The nausea overwhelmed him and he twisted awkwardly over his sore arm, diving for the bucket as the demons won. Oh God! His stomach heaved as his head exploded and it hurt so much. Crying, gasping, he finally came back to himself, to the realisation that Scully's hands were holding his head together; to the remembering of her calling him "love".

Totally exhausted he let her clean him up. With her hands once again on his head he closed his eyes. A thought occurred to him and he forced them open. 'You didn't give me boxers for my birthday. The guys did.'

'Oh,' she smiled. 'The ones with the little "X" Marks the Spot on them?' She bent down and kissed his forehead. 'That's what you think.'

'Scully.' His eyes were loosing the battle. His voice was soft and slurred. ' Gunna…' His eyes flicked open again. 'I luv em.'

'Shh.' Her fingers traced through his hair. She watched his face loose tension. 'One day you can model them for me,' she whispered.

His mouth lifted fractionally at the corner, the lightest of smiles. 'Count on it,' she could have sworn she heard him say.

Rod arrived home with the children an hour or so later. Scully must have dozed off because the first she was aware of their arrival was Brad roaring into the room to turn the television on. He screeched to a halt as he saw Mulder asleep on the lounge.

'Oh sorry Dana. I just wanted to watch the news. Dad did a press conference today. I want to see it.'

'That's alright,' Scully said. 'You couldn't wake him up now if you tried.'

'Damn,' she heard Rod mutter as he headed up the passage shedding his tie. ' I hate seeing myself on TV.'

Davy came in. 'Is it true Dana? Are you really taking us to Bush Bay?' His eyes were bright with delight.

'Yes Davy.' Scully got out of her chair and stretched. She couldn't help the huge smile that Davy's happiness brought her. 'We really are.'

'Cool!'

'I'm going to miss the beach picnic,' Brad said morosely. 'None of my friends are finishing school a week early.'

'I'd have thought you'd be pleased,' his father said coming back in. He had changed into shorts and tee shirt and looked cool and relaxed. Nothing however could hide that fact that he was exhausted. He gestured at the TV. 'Do we have to watch that? I'd just as soon have a bit of quiet myself.'

'But I want to see what you have to say.'

'Brad that is ridiculous. I can tell you everything I said, and I bet they'll only show you half of it. Turn it off.' He stretched out in his chair with a sigh. 'Please,' he added quietly.

'Brad,' Scully said. 'I don't mind if you watch the TV in the lounge room. After all, I guess that's where your father would usually go when he comes home tired. You can sit on my bed.'

Rod gave a grunt of acknowledgment. 'Don't touch anything that doesn't belong to you,' he said softly as the boys left the room.

'Thank you for putting up with us,' Scully said.

Rod just gave another grunt.

'I'm under orders to feed you. Paula left some steak. How does that sound?'

'Fine.' He just wanted to be left to sleep. Why did women always want to feed men? Couldn't they tell that sometimes that wasn't what men needed? He must have nodded off because he started awake to the feel of his elbow being nudged.

'Paula made some more iced tea.'

'Oh.' He forced his eyes open. 'Dana? Right. Sorry.' He sat himself up and took the drink. 'I'm so tired I can hardly think.'

'I know. I'll have your dinner ready in a few minutes, then you can go to bed.'

He smiled at her. She really was lovely to look at. She was kind and she was bright. He looked across at the man softly snoring on the sofa. Did he realise what he'd got he wondered. If that ring was any indication, maybe he did. He thought of Paula and his smile turned inwards. Rod knew that he was a very lucky man.

Scully enjoyed cooking the dinner. It wasn't something she usually did; but she was her mother's daughter and knowing how to prepare a good meal was something she carried in her make up. It was just not something she got to practise very often. As she placed new potatoes and vegetables beside the steaks she wondered as to the family's preferences but they fell on the food with delight. Davy left the broccoli and Brad the carrots but everything else disappeared.

'Thank you,' Rod said sincerely. 'Usually when Paula's working we have to make do ourselves.'

'That's alright. I enjoyed it. It will be fun looking after the boys this week.' She watched him yawn. 'Before you nod off, are you up to talking about the case? Mulder finished his profile.' I hope you want to, she thought. He sweated blood for this. I want it to be appreciated.

Rod looked at the sheaf of papers she held up. 'Do you think you could give me the "Readers Digest" version. I think reading this would put me straight to sleep.'

She smiled and settled herself across from him. She refilled their mugs and flicked through the pages. 'Right. I'll leave out the "indicators suggest", "strong possibility", and "within the parameters of" stuff and take it all as given. I've found that Mulder is usually right, although how he does it is completely unfathomable. He can spout chapter and verse of the theories of behavioural studies if he has to but it's complete bumph. He makes it fit the profile after he's written it. He has a "gift",' she added sadly. 'One no one would ever wish to have.'

Rod smiled wryly. 'I saw him at work yesterday. I think I know what you mean.'

Scully spread the pages out in front of her and looked up ready to start. She was suddenly business like, completely different from the homey person who had served him dinner. And yet, as she looked at the papers, there was something in her eye, something very motherly, if that mother was a lioness. He thought he understood. 'It's all right Dana. I won't ask him to do it again.'

That was it. He'd hit that nail on the head. Had something happened today when Mulder was working on this? He suspected yes, but he wouldn't intrude. But whatever it was had knocked the man out because he hadn't even stirred in the hour Rod had been home. God he was tired too. He scrubbed at his eyes and blinked to clear his vision. 'Okay,' he nodded. 'Lay it on me.'

The perp, according to Mulder was male, aged between 20 and 30 years. He had had a childhood that had caused him to become alienated from his peers. Mulder suggested either abusive parents or the possibility of alienation due to sexual orientation. Or of course, it could be both scenarios. Due to the lack of sexual overtones to the abductions and murder Mulder felt that the sex of the children made very little difference in his choice of victims. He possibly felt that women were inferior and therefore girl children didn't count for much. The sample was too small to be able to tell if race had anything to do with his choice of victims. Mulder felt the man had suffered a loss for which he was trying to avenge himself. Someone he loved may have drowned or have been otherwise lost at sea.

Scully looked up surprised when Rod seemed a little jolted by that. She filed the thought for future investigation and continued without indicating she had noticed anything.

The reference to innocence suggested the lost one to be a child.

That seemed to score a definite hit with her new friend. Was it his personal past or a case he was thinking of?

She continued. The perp seemed to think of the sea as cleansing but without evidence to indicate what he had been planing for Charlotte it was very hard to extrapolate any further. The sample just wasn't large enough.

Scully sorted the pages into order and handed them to Rod. 'Hopefully,' Rod said as he took them, 'the sample won't be getting any larger either.' He gave a huge yawn. 'I'll have a good look at this in the morning. I'm afraid I just can't take it in tonight. It does sound solid.' He stood stretching. 'Does he think he'll do it again?'

'Yes.'

Rod just nodded. 'Do you want a hand to put sleeping beauty to bed?'

'No thanks.' He was such a nice man. 'I think he'll wake soon on his own. I want to get some food into him. What about your beauties, do you want me to put the boys to bed?'

He grinned at that. 'Brad will take himself off when he's ready but I'm sure Davy would love to have you tuck him in. He's so excited about the holiday you'd better start now if you want him down by midnight. I think he's already in his room trying to decide what to take.'

Dana smiled with genuine pleasure. 'I'd better go share my extensive experience in packing. I've noticed that when my nephews come to stay they always have gameboys and books but not enough socks. Mulder on the other hand goes on assignments with plenty of underwear but nearly always needs to borrow my toothpaste.' She coloured as she realised how that sounded. 'I mean, I assume he has plenty of underwear. I've never heard him complain. I mean I've never seen if he has or not.'

Rod snorted. 'I'm going to bed. I am unavailable to calls from anyone except DS Jarvis who is in charge tonight.' He dropped a brief kiss on the top of her head. 'Thanks.'

'For what?'

Rod shrugged. 'I guess, for caring about my kids. Just I suppose, for caring.'

Dana watched him go a warm feeling in her chest.

Stuart Residence

Tuesday 14th

3.32 am

Scully lay on her camp bed, barely breathing, listening for what had woken her. She could hear the sound of a vehicle a long way away, a slight wind moving the trees outside. That wasn't it, the noise that had woken her came from inside. As she brought her attention inward she heard the quiet movement of the sheets as Mulder tossed restlessly in his bed. Then the sound she knew she had heard, familiar from many nights on the road, a quiet moan.

Lifting herself up on her elbow she studied him. There was enough light coming from street lamps outside that she could see his shape on the bed. He seemed distressed but not excessively so. She wondered what to do. If he could just keep sleeping, pass through REM sleep without waking he probably wouldn't even remember dreaming come morning. His body needed a good sleep to repair itself. She could get up and try to sooth him but that might actually wake him. That would defeat the purpose. He didn't seem too bad. She lay there and determined to do nothing in the mean time.

The decision was taken out of her hands. Piercing, terrified screams suddenly broke the night's silence and echoed through the house. Jesus! She startled bolt upright and looked across to see Mulder do the same. Fuck. Her heart was racing. She realised Mulder was frantically searching for a weapon then saw awareness kick in as he woke enough to realise what was happening. Panting he sagged back onto his pillow.

Mulder's pulse was pounding from the shock of another man's screams. The fright of his own dream mixed with his startled awakening. Oceans of blood still filled his senses and coherent thought was going to take a minute or two. He saw Scully at the door peering up the passage. A light at the other end of the house was enough to silhouette her figure in her night gear. She looked quite surreal, her hair a blood bright halo. Slowly his breathing slowed.

He could hear quiet voices. Scully turned and closed the door. 'It's alright,' she told him quietly. 'It was Rod. He must have been dreaming.'

He felt the mattress dip as Scully sat beside him and he moved in towards her. He felt her hand on his shoulder and was comforted just by her presence. Feeling needy and a little foolish he grabbed her hand and held it to his cheek. He was still breathing hard and she was so calm. Eyes closed, childlike he let himself be stroked. Slowly he realised she was speaking to him.

He swallowed. Looking up he could see her sitting above him in the dark. 'What? Sorry?' There was a light on in the kitchen now. The light coming through the curtains over their window glowed. The jungle print seemed bright and alive. It gave enough illumination to see the concern on Scully's face.

'I said, I think Paula's making Rod a drink. Do you want anything?'

-Only you.- He shook his head and bit back the tear that that thought brought him. 'I'm okay. Thanks.'

'You're okay?' Scully ran her hand down his arm. 'Are you okay?' she asked. 'You were dreaming too.'

'It makes a nice change though,' he tried to joke, 'to not be the one yelling the place down.'

'Well yes.' Scully's hand moved up his arm to find his face. She stroked him again. 'It doesn't mean that you wouldn't have been going to. You sounded pretty unhappy.'

He sighed and pushed himself across the bed. Scully was puzzled until she felt him reach up and pull her arm. She smiled. She knew exactly what he wanted. She lay down, pulling him in close, their heads together on the pillow. He lay still, willing the tension to leave him as she stroked his hair and rubbed circles on his back, his head buried against her neck. 'What were you dreaming about?'

'Blood.'

They were silent for a long minute. She could feel a deep trembling in his body that slowly faded as his breathing slowed.

'Drowning in blood,' he explained. 'I was fighting through it. There was something I was desperate to find in there but I couldn't get through it. I couldn't see her but I knew she was there. It was too thick.'

'Samantha?'

'I don't know.' He tightened his grip around her body. His voice was very quiet. 'It might have been you.'

'Oh Mulder.' She hugged him tightly in reply. 'I'm here.'

'I know.' His face turned upwards to find hers and kiss her. It was a kiss for reassurance and comfort and she responded in kind. 'Stay here,' he asked. 'Please. Sleep with me tonight.'

He felt her move away and gasped at the unexpected pain of her refusal. 'I'm sorry.' His voice rose in panic. ' I didn't mean that. I just wanted…' Frantically he tried to pull himself together. She was fumbling with the bedding and he sought to save something of the situation. 'I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Sorry.' He tried to make his voice sound normal. 'Goodnight Scully.'

He felt her finger across his lips. Then miracle of miracles, her body slid into the sheets next to his. 'Mulder,' she said fondly. 'There are times when you are really dense.'

Oh God. He was gulping like a fish, his heart rate at danger level. She had only been getting under the covers. Christ what a fool. 'Thank you,' he whispered.

She knew what he meant. Taking him back in to her arms she held him tight. How on earth, she wondered had he managed to survive this long when he was so desperately insecure and alone? 'Good night Mulder.' She dropped a kiss on his forehead.

'Night Johnboy.' He was pleased when she giggled. He snuggled deeper, fidgeting around to try and find an easy place to lay his arm. He was tired, he just wanted to sleep and being wrapped in Scully's arms should be heaven but it wasn't. 'Sorry.' He twisted over. 'I'm not used to sleeping with someone.' His arm ached whatever way he put it.

'You need codeine Mulder.'

With a sigh he admitted that he did. Before he could even think about where he might have left them he felt her fingers against his lips. Obediently he opened his mouth and lifted his tongue. She put the tiny pill in place, right back behind his teeth at the root of his tongue. It was a very intimate thing to do and gave him a strange tug in his chest. 'Thanks.'

'Go to sleep Mulder.'

'I'm tired of being sick,' he said sometime later, rousing her when she was on the verge of nodding off.

'Shh!'

'Sick and tired.' He laughed at his own joke.

Groaning slightly Scully rolled over, feeling him follow suit. He wrapped himself around her, his bandaged arm carefully lying along her side. 'I know Mulder. I think we might have to look at a total revaluation of our lifestyle. You can't keep on like this.'

It was her unconscious inclusion of herself in his lifestyle that emboldened him to ask, 'Do you ever wish you could have what Rod and Paula have?'

'What's that Mulder?' she asked cautiously, unsure just what he was asking. 'A nice house in the suburbs, two kids and a job that gives you nightmares. Or,' she rolled onto her back so her face was right next to his, 'do you mean two kids who scare you so much when you're investigating a child murderer that you send them away with total strangers so that they'll be safe?'

What she didn't say was implicit in her answer; two children she could never have. Her sadness was tangible. Mulder gulped, he hadn't meant that and now his own sadness and guilt was swelling his throat and rendering him unable to explain. Damn. Awkwardly he patted the shoulder beside him. He hadn't meant anything to do with children at all. And now he'd hurt her. It must be hard enough to put that thought aside, to live with it, without him rubbing her nose in it. 'I meant,' he choked out, 'about having someone to wake up beside when you have nightmares. Someone who'll get up and get you a drink and look after you until you go back to sleep.'

She lay very still. Then her hand reached up and felt for his. Unfortunately the hand she took was his left hand, his left hand that felt every thing strangely. Her touch felt odd and he steeled himself not to move away. He struggled to make things right. 'I meant someone who is with you every night, so you're not alone.' He rolled onto his back, carefully rescuing his hand. He took her hand in his good one and held on tight. 'Do you want that Scully?' He could barely breathe.

Her hand returned his grip and she turned to put her other arm around him, across his chest. Her voice was soft in his ear. ' I want that Mulder but…'

'What?' He was terrified she was going to say "but not with you."

'But right now I need to sleep.'

His breath whooshed out. She hadn't said no. 'That's a cop out Scully.'

'Not really. I need… No we need to have this conversation when we're awake. Right now,' she leant up and kissed him on the nose, 'I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Okay?' She gave him a brief kiss on the mouth. She yawned. 'We'll talk later.'

'Promise?'

'Promise.'

Oh hell. He had to tell her. Desperately Mulder tried to hold on to the warmth of her response. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe she wouldn't mind too much. Maybe she would even understand. Who was he trying to kid, she would never understand. Well yes she might but she would never be able to forgive. Oh God. What was he going to do?

'Mulder.' Her voice was sleepy. 'Go to sleep. Whatever's worrying you, I'm here. It will be okay.' She kissed the side of his head. 'Go to sleep and we'll talk tomorrow.' Her grip on him tightened. 'Please go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.'

Blinking back tears he was determined she shouldn't know about he buried his nose in her hair. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo and concentrated on feeling her closeness and shutting out the fear of what was to come. It worked and minutes later, much calmer he felt himself sinking into a healing sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

State Highway One

State Highway One

North of Christchurch

1pm

The big car purred effortlessly up the highway, the pleasing green countryside familiar and yet subtly different from America. They were driving through rolling hills studded with sheep and cattle. The farms looked prosperous with well maintained houses and buildings. Away inland the snow clad tops of mountains could be seen, the permanent snow caps shinning in the summer sun. From the car stereo an old Eagles ballad kept Scully company, no one else was, she was the only one awake. The game of count the cows had petered out and she had realised to her surprise that she was the only one still counting. It was harder here than where she had played it as a kid. Usually here there were too many cows in a paddock to count as the car flashed past. They had decided that paddocks like that were 50 points, even if there was probably 200 cows.

Driving like this was easy. The road was good, the car, in spite of its size was responsive and rode the road well. Rod's Holden Commodore was made for highway driving.

She liked driving, it was just that Mulder seemed to like it even more and she had long since given up fighting him for the privilege. It made a nice change to be the driver, and out on the highway staying on the right side seemed easier. Or maybe she was just adjusting to it as Mulder had assured her she would.

They were starting to climb now and the road was quite windy. She glanced around the car, quickly checking her passengers. Mulder was sound asleep, his head awkwardly thrown back against the door. He must be totally exhausted to sleep like that. He looked extremely uncomfortable but there was nothing she could do. Of course he was exhausted. He'd suffered a major trauma on top of a major illness only a few months ago. Add to that his antics in the past few days and the fact that the only solid food he'd eaten that had stayed down for days was this morning's breakfast. He was lucky to be doing as well as he was.

She looked across at him again. Disconcertingly he was wearing shorts. At least in this car there was plenty of leg room. She'd had quite a bit of trouble getting the seat far enough forward to reach the pedals. She hadn't told Mulder. She was still smarting from his admittedly drunken crack years ago about her little feet reaching the pedals.

She checked the back seat to see that Brad wasn't actually asleep. He glanced up at her in the mirror and smiled. He had headphones on and had his own music going. She imagined it was something a little livelier than the Eagles. Davy she could see however was asleep. He had been up fairly late last night and when she thought about it, it was the end of his school year. He probably was fairly tired. At least she didn't have to worry about finding out how effective his carsick pill he'd taken before they left really was.

She turned off the Eagles. They were going to put her to sleep too. The centre console between the front seats had opened up to yield a collection of cassettes, most over twenty years old. The Eagles had been Mulder's choice. It had seemed a strange choice for him but she had to admit it was good background music to sleep to. Actually, as far as road music went it wasn't too bad. But it would be better if people were awake and talking to her. All the stresses of the past week and the broken nights were likely to catch up with her. She'd hate to fall asleep and run them all off the road. As a precaution she hit the button for the air conditioning, the cold air flooding her face. After a moments thought she turned it off again. She didn't want Mulder to get chilled.

She'd had a big talk with Paula last night. A couple of wines had lubricated her tongue a little more than usual too. All right, she told herself, so you poured your heart out. What are you afraid of? Paula doesn't think badly of you. Paula's not going to tell anyone what you said. Well maybe Rod. They're certainly not going to tell Mulder are they? It had felt so good to talk. Paula was good to talk to. She was a great listener. Being a near stranger might have had something to do with it too. She'd said things she hadn't even know she'd thought, until she'd said them. God she was sorry case. She quietly patted Mulder's bare leg. They both were.

Words from last night ran around her head. 'You love him, I can see that.' Paula.

'Of course I do. There is no one else for me.'

'So. What's the problem?'

Well, Scully thought. What is the problem? I love him. I know he loves me. The fact is there is no one else in my life. I can't imagine anyone else in my heart like he is. And that's the problem. He's too much. He's too intense. He's too damaged, too much hard work. Do I want that for the rest of my life?

So Scully had told her the problem. 'I can't have children.' She'd hidden her face so as not to see Paula's response. 'I can live with that. I have to live with that. It's just not fair for Mulder to have to live with it too.' Only she hadn't said it anywhere near that calmly because it hurt too much. Thinking about that conversation now she found her eyes filling with tears, again. She stroked her hand down Mulder's warm thigh. 'He needs to have children,' she'd told Paula. 'I want him to. But I can't do that for him.'

And Paula, bless her, hadn't made any of the platitudes about adoption or artificial insemination because she'd had the nous to recognise that that wasn't really the problem.

'Does Fox know?'

'Oh yes!' Scully had told her all about the cancer then, about Mulder's desperate search for a cure. About him selling his soul, for her. She wasn't sure that Paula understood or even believed anything of her sorry tale but she seemed to have an uncanny ability to get to the heart of the matter.

'You feel guilty that you survived and because of what he's done he's left tied to you. When you're damaged.'

Scully choked back a sob, forcing her concentration back to the road. God. Paula had got it so right. She'd never realised it before but she did feel exactly like that. She loved Mulder so much she'd rather she had died and let him move on, to find someone who could have given him the live he needed. The life he deserved. He deserved a nice life, with kids to bring up and teach ball and make him realise that he was a decent human being. And all he had now was her.

And with just the two of them, they would never stop. The "quest" would never stop.

'So you're just going to have to be strong,' Paula had said. 'Because he can't live without you. I've seen the way he looks at you. You're the strong one. The women always are.' She'd held up her hand to forestall any comment from Scully. 'Oh, I've no doubt there have been many times when he has physically rescued you, but you're the strong one. I know I've only seen him hurt and not at his best, but I can tell this. You have to choose. If you choose for him you'll be looking after him forever. But…' And she'd raised her glass in a toast.

'I'll be loved,' Scully had whispered.

'Exactly.' And Paula had grinned. 'And believe me. That's no bad thing. The rest of it,' and her hand had encompassed home and family, 'that's just the rewards you get for your efforts. Your rewards will be different from mine, but they will be rewards, don't you worry about that.'

So with all that in her mind and rather tipsy to boot she'd gone to bed. To end up not that many hours later in Mulder's bed. Wondering what the hell demons he was fighting that he couldn't tell her about. Their relationship was heading towards a major fork in the road. As soon as she'd agreed to come on this trip it had become inevitable that they had to reach a decision. It just seemed ironic that they weren't yet travelling on the same road to that fork. Their paths were parallel, but not yet together. What was it going to take?

--

The car crested the hill and started to wind down through the bush. Suddenly, rounding a bend the vista opened up and Scully found, laid out in front of her a limitless azure ocean. 'Oh,' she gasped.

Brad leaned forward between the seats. 'Pretty neat eh,' he said with a proprietary air.

Scully had to admit that yeah, it was.

The road slid down a bush clad gully to the sea, swept in a wide bend to the north, crossing the railway track on a bridge as it did so, to take a new course along the coastline. It was so dramatic Scully woke Mulder up. Then she pulled the car over into a layby right beside the ocean and got out.

The car was parked in a small grassy area with stunted bright green shrubs around the edges. Right below the grass was the beach, but it wasn't really a beach. It was jagged brown rocks. The sea, still the deep azure blue that she associated with deep water, swelled around the outcrops moving great bunches of kelp to and fro. The air was full of the smells of the sea.

Towering behind them, just across the road and over the rail line a steep bush covered mountain rose so high she had to tilt her head way back to see the top. So if the shoreline dropped away at the same angle as the mountain that came down to it, the water just off shore was very deep indeed.

'Wow!' said Mulder beside her. He reached out and took her hand. 'This is really different.' Looking ahead they could see the bright green mountains running into the sea for miles up the coast. Away off in the sea haze a peninsula jutted out. Away, way off in the distance and slightly to the right more land could just be seen.

Brad saw them looking and pointed. 'That's the North Island.'

Davy dragged on Scully's sleeve, not to be outdone. He pointed to the peninsula. 'That's Kaikoura.'

The two boys watched the tourists with amusement. They travelled this way a couple of times a year and it was very familiar to them. Children see their lives as the norm; whatever they see around them is the way the rest of the world is. Brad was old enough to know in theory that this wasn't the case but was only just starting to develop the ability to project himself into other's lives. Davy just thought the Americans were funny. Both of them were inordinately pleased that their new friends we impressed with one of their favourite places.

They all clambered down to the rocky beach, Scully turning back to offer Mulder a hand. Smooth, irregular shaped pebbles replaced the sand of a normal beach. In the tidal pools the boys started searching for shrimps and anemones. Mulder perched himself on a not so rough rock and watched Scully watch them. Her hair blew around her face in the soft breeze and she tucked it behind her ears, a sea goddess just arisen from the kelp.

Still feeling muzzy headed from his sleep Mulder watched with a sense of detachment. This was a scene of which he wasn't a part. The mountainous coast was too surreal to be true, the sea too blue. And Scully and two children playing in a rock pool…

Shrieks of mirth merged with the calls of the gulls. Scully looked up, her eyes the same incredible blue as the sea. She was smiling, happy. She beckoned him. 'Come and see the crabs.'

Something popped. The very air shimmered and let him through. No longer just looking, he was there, smelling, seeing, hearing. So odd, it was as if he'd just stepped back through the mirror, Scully's invitation what he needed to make the transition. Giving himself a mental shake he carefully made his way over and peered into the water. 'What?' he asked.

'Here!' Davy shoved a crab in his face, laughing hysterically. Turning on instinct Mulder grabbed the child's arm and jerked, just enough so that the poor crab flew into Davy's face instead. Davy shrieked and jumped backwards. Brad grabbed some seaweed and biffed it at Mulder who retaliated with some of his own. Davy started splashing water and the fight was on.

As the males wrestled and howled, Scully carefully rescued the tiny crab, no bigger than her thumbnail, and returned it to its pool.

Now it was Scully's turn to sit on a rock and observe. Mulder was favouring his arm. It was still in a sling, but she was pleased to see, the boys were looking out for him too. They were nice kids. Mulder's arm obviously wasn't bothering him nearly so much today. She'd try weaning him off the codeine soon.

She glanced at her watch. Only another half an hour or so and they'd be there. It didn't feel like they'd even started travelling and yet they were in a totally different environment. This was such a small country. Scully wondered about their accommodation. Paula had booked them a family unit for two nights and she hoped it was nice. She didn't know what sort of place the Stuart's could afford and they had insisted on paying.

Scully shook her head; this was certainly not the way she'd pictured this holiday. She wondered what Mulder felt about it all. She saw him trying to sneak towards her behind a large rock to her right. Did he really think she wouldn't see him? He had a long string of kelp in his hand. At the moment he looked pretty happy about having the boys along. Speaking of… Where were…? Suddenly recognising a decoy operation she swung round. 'Aahh!'

Just a moment too late. A cascade of shells, seaweed, and disgusting stuff rolled off her hair and down her neck. Mulder stood up from behind his rock laughing fit to bust as the boys scrambled backwards out of range of retaliation.

'Oh gross!' She peeled some decaying weed from her shirt. 'You guys are dead meat. 'You,' she threw a handful at Mulder, 'are going to be deader than most.'

'Aw Scully,' he carefully picked some sea lettuce out of her hair. 'At least this time you can't shoot me.' His hand stayed on her head, combing out her hair.

She leaned in closer so that he thought she was going to kiss him. And rammed her knee up between his legs, arresting the motion at precisely the right time; high enough to make her point, low enough to leave him intact. He gasped.

'There are more painful ways to die Mulder,' she smirked.

The boys were awe-struck. Still shocked Mulder walked carefully back to the car. 'You've got to be careful with women,' he told them. But he couldn't think of anything particularly smart to say.

Scully was still grinning. 'Having a nice time Mulder?'

'Fine thank you Scully. I'm fine.'

He went to get into the car.

'Hang on to your ball Mulder.'

'What?'

She handed him his tennis ball, the one he'd been carrying all day and exercising his hand with rarely. 'Just keep squeezing the ball,' she did a creditable impression of his leer, 'and you'll be fine. I'll be testing your strength later.' She watched him choke and could barely smother her laughter. It was good to get the last laugh. Yeah, everything was going to be fine.

Leviathan Motor Inn

Kaikoura

6pm

Fossicking through the box of food his mother had sent Davy was hoping to find crisps. He was hungry and they weren't due to go to dinner for another hour. Mum had packed up a huge box with food for the trip but all he could seem to find was boxes of breakfast cereals and things to spread on bread. She must have put some treats in here too, mustn't she? Davy was finding this whole set up rather odd. He loved Dana, he'd never met anyone like her. He couldn't believe that she did the job that Dad said she did. She was so small, smaller than any other grown ups he knew, and she was so nice. How could she cut up dead people for a living? As for the guy - Davy wasn't comfortable with either of his names. It wasn't right to call him Mulder without a mister in front, Davy knew that, but what sort of screwy name was "Fox"? And he was a little bit creepy. Davy was good at picking up on vibes and he knew this guy wasn't comfortable somehow. He was nice enough and he seemed to like Davy and Brad, and he really liked Dana, and Dad and Mum liked him, but even so. Davy just wasn't quite happy with the situation. He couldn't figure out why Mum and Dad had sent them all away together.

Giving up on the hunt for goodies he found himself the makings of a peanut butter sandwich. Davy knew that Dad was in the middle of one of his cases, but he didn't really have any concept of how intense things could get. To a ten-year-old it just all seemed a bit screwy. He hoped the McIlhenney kids would be at Bush Bay. It had been real good fun with them last year. Maybe they wouldn't though, after all school hadn't finished for the year yet. He and Brad were the only ones on holiday so far.

Wandering out on the terrace he found Dana sitting on a deck chair. They were on the second floor and Mulder and Brad were across the road on the beach. Brad was trying to skip stones, which was a hopeless thing to try here because the waves roared in and out far too big and fast. There was no flat water to allow the stone to skip. There were plenty of stones to choose from though. That was all the beach was made of. Davy had never stayed here before. They had stopped for lunch on their way through but generally Dad liked to keep going to wherever it was and not stop unless absolutely necessary. That was why this afternoon was the first time that he'd ever seen the beach here. Only it wasn't a beach at all. It was more like one of the road works gravel pits with an ocean roaring into it. It was steep and stony and the waves sucked the pebbles up and down with such violence that he could feel it when he stood below on the road. What the hell happened if there was a big storm? Did the town wash away?

Davy felt like he'd missed out on some step in the progression that had brought him here. Something he wouldn't have missed if he could hear. He was used to that sort of thing happening, being deaf he was often left to struggle to catch up with what the rest of the world was doing. It was disconcerting. Yesterday he'd been at school with another week till the end of term; today he was here. He was unsettled and a little homesick.

Davy wasn't bitter about his life without sound. He missed singing and easily knowing what was going on, but he had learnt to compensate. He found now, he often knew things about people that other people didn't. He could just feel things, like knowing who really put the fire hose in the headmaster's office window and turned it on. Jimmy McKenzie could look all innocent, but Davy could tell. Knowing about people was useful. Jimmy didn't bother Davy any more. And being deaf didn't stop him running. It had been a year before the doctors had let him do sports again but now he was as fast as he ever was. He won the junior schools cross-country this year. Next year he'd be in the seniors. He had every intention of winning that too.

He plonked himself down in the chair beside Dana. She smiled at him. He liked it when she did that.

'Are you hungry?'

'Mmm.' He held up his sandwich.

'What time do you usually have dinner?'

Davy shrugged. If he admitted that they'd usually be sitting down to eat now she'd be all upset.

'You know,' she said. 'I'm hungry too. What say you go down to the beach and tell those idiots to come in and tidy up. Then we can head along to that hotel. The lady in reception said that the buffet starts at seven.'

He perked up at that. 'Is that where you get to pick what you want and there's lots of food on the table?' He hadn't realised they were going to that sort of dinner.

'That's right. You can even have three desserts if you want to.'

'Cool.'

'The lady at reception said the seafood was wonderful. Do you like seafood?'

'Do they have chips?'

'I bet they do. You go get the others. I think we all need at least a change of clothes.' She sniffed her shirt and feigned horror. 'Go on. I smell like seaweed. I'll have the first shower.' She let him out the door and handed him the key. As an after thought she grabbed the car keys off the side table and handed him those too. 'There's another food box in the trunk. Do you think you could bring it up on your way back?'

Davy unlocked the boot of the car. There was another box. This one contained crisps, peanuts, packets of biscuits, a full cake tin and oh neat, chocolate. Mum had sent them with some goodies after all.

Kai Moana Restaurant

7.35 pm

Brad was in heaven. The tables were covered with enough food to serve hundreds of people. The only time he'd ever seen so much food in once place was at Aunt Kathleen's wedding. Some of it was yuck stuff that grown ups thought were cool like oysters and mussels and fish cooked whole still with their heads on. The fish even had its eyes still in and one peeked up at him, grey and gluey. There was a whole other table of salads but also kid's stuff; lots of battered fish and those roast potatoes that were so crispy they were like chips. There were guys in poncy white suits carving ham off great legs and roast beef and mutton. There was pots of gravy. And even Brad could tell it had all been laid out beautifully, even the dead fish. His plate groaning with food he looked for his brother. Davy was trying to add more than was physically possible to the plate he held. Davy ladled mint sauce over the pile, spotted Brad and the two of them made their way carefully back to the table.

Scully and Mulder watched the boys with awe. They had started the grown up way with a sea food entree while the boys had headed straight for the mains. The amount of food they were carrying on their plates was truly staggering. Mulder grinned. 'Didn't you do that when you were a kid Scully?'

'I don't think I ever got the chance Mulder.'

The boys arrived and carefully sat. 'I want to be a cook,' Brad announced. 'It must be real fun to make that every night.'

Scully smiled at him. 'You don't get paid to eat it. They might even dock your pay if there wasn't enough for the customers.'

'There's got to be left overs. Look how much food there is over there. And there's only three lots of people here.'

'I think they might be expecting a few others,' Mulder said. 'I'm an investigator and I can tell.' He waved his arm around the room. 'Can you figure it out?'

'All the tables are set and they'd never prepare so much if they thought it would get wasted,' Brad said.

'Right,' Mulder smiled. 'We might make an investigator of you yet.'

The dining room was large and barn like. In spite of large potted palms and acres of maroon carpet it didn't lend itself to ambience. There was a stage ringed in fern fronds and set up with a microphone promising entertainment later. Even with lack of ambience this place was several steps above the greasy bars where he and Scully usually ate. The food was way above their usual standard. As they spoke a group of middle aged Asian women wandered in looking lost. A waitress sauntered over and led them to a table.

'See. More people are coming in all the time.'

Brad wasn't deterred. 'But you must get to taste the food. All the cooks you see on TV are fat.'

'And that's your aim in life is it,' Scully asked. 'To get fat.'

'No. I just like food.'

'Brad's a good cook.' Davy piped up unexpectedly. He then put his head down and kept eating.

'I'm sorry Brad.' Scully tried to catch his eye. 'I'm teasing. I can tell you like food and creating it has got to be fun. I think a chef is a good career choice.'

'Speaking of food Scully,' Mulder tugged at her arm. 'I think we'd better get ours before that crowd starts moving.'

She followed his gaze and saw a long line of Asian people snaking their way to tables. It looked like Mulder was right, every table was going to be full.

'Hey Scully,' he said later, his plate nearly as full as the boys, 'What say we come here more often?'

Scully gave him the look that meant she really wanted to laugh at him but wanted him to think she wasn't amused. 'You can come back for seconds you know.' He knew she was secretly pleased to see him wanting to eat so much.

'I know. I will.'

'Don't you think you should add a few vegetables to that heap?'

Mulder looked at the stack of sliced meats on his plate, looked at the rows of salads, the dishes of beans, peas and carrots, the pile of corn cobs, and added a roast potato to his feast.

'Mulder.' She used that voice.

'Scully. Don't start.' He glanced up. The first of the other guests were heading for the buffet. 'You're not my mother.' He stalked back to the table.

'I don't want to be an investigator,' Brad said disconcertingly as the adults sat down.

It took them a moment to remember what he was talking about. He must have been stewing over Mulder's comment since he'd said it. Mulder was just pleased to have the heat taken off him. 'Why is that?' he asked gently.

Brad shrugged. 'Just look at Dad.'

'What about him? He's very good at what he does from what I can see.' Where was this leading? He looked at Scully for guidance and received a small nod of reassurance.

'But he always has to work with bad people. It doesn't make him happy. Even when he finishes a case he's not happy because someone got hurt or died and he hates that.' Brad gave a helpless gesture. 'Making good food would make you happy. No one could be sad about that.'

'You've got a point there,' Mulder smiled a little sadly himself. 'But sometimes solving a case, helping someone… Knowing you've made a difference in the world. That can give you a feeling of satisfaction,' he touched his heart, 'right in here. It doesn't make you jump for joy, but it makes you feel good, here, inside.'

'Mulder's right,' Scully said, laying her hand over the boy's. 'Part of it for me, is in solving a puzzle, but I guess…' she transferred her hand to Mulder's, 'we're really trying to keep the world safe.'

She floundered a little and Mulder came to her rescue. 'Why do you think your Dad keeps doing what he does?'

'That's easy,' piped up Davy who'd been paying close attention. 'He's still looking for his cousins.'

Leviathan Motor Inn

10.30pm

With the doors to the balcony open the sound of the sea filled the lounge room of the second floor unit. The noise of the sea moving rocks was either as loud as a churning concrete truck doing the same thing or completely inconsequential, depending on whether or not you were listening for it. Mulder leaned back on the sofa eyes closed. He had just showered and was dressed in shorts and tee shirt. The breeze was pleasant on his warm skin.

Scully had his naked arm in her hands. She'd decided that if he was allowed to unmask it to swim, he could do the same to shower. He had to admit that it had felt good as long as he was super cautious not to bump it on anything. Now Scully held it palm up and she was gently rubbing some magical anti-scaring cream into the suture lines. His eyes were shut because he couldn't bear to watch.

His arm still looked disgusting. Swollen in uneven lumps it was horribly discoloured by bruising, the wounds still oozed in places and the sutures still looked like little ants.

It felt awful. Some places had no sensation at all other than knowledge of being touched, she could have been poking pins in him and he wouldn't know any different. Other areas were dully sore and still others felt like razor blades were slicing into him when her fingers moved across the skin. The worst thing and the real reason he wasn't watching was because he couldn't tell by looking what the area was going to feel like. And the part that was making him nauseous was that where he saw her hand wasn't always where he felt the pain.

He kept his eyes shut and tried desperately hard not to flinch. He forced himself to concentrate on the Maori concert party that had performed after dinner, to remember the whole show. The music had been hypnotic, exotic and yet not too far removed from Hawaiian style music. The women had swayed in their grass skirts in a sensuous rhythm, but he had to admit it was the men with their Haka, the war dance, that had really stirred his blood. There had been something primal about the grotesque posturing, the painted full facial tattoos seeming frighteningly real in the theatre lighting. He'd hate to meet the real thing.

Knives slashed his flesh and he gasped jerking out of Scully's hands.

Scully had been engrossed in the fine detail of the suture lines. This was the first chance she'd had to examine the wounds and she was impressed by the surgeon's work. She was enjoying being close to Mulder, touching his skin. She was doing her best to make him better. She hadn't realised he wasn't enjoying this.

She looked at his white face. She realised now. His arm was clutched to his chest, his head back, squeezing back tears. 'Oh Mulder.' She stroked his cheek until he opened his eyes. His eyes were like muddy pools, brown and sludgy green. 'Why didn't you tell me I was hurting you?'

'Sometimes you weren't.'

His voice was that pathetic mumble that always spelled trouble. She didn't know whether to be exasperated or sorry. She claimed the arm back and supported it on her hand on his knee. She didn't touch the wounds. Mulder kept his eyes on her face. She put her other hand on his palm and drew her fingers across it from the wrist to the end of the fingers. This time she was aware and felt him flinch. 'That hurts too?' There were no wounds on his hand.

'It feels odd.'

'How's your movement coming along? Can you squeeze my hand?'

He tried to tighten his hand around her warm fingers. His fingers twitched. He bit back a cry. All the muscles in his inner arm screamed at their abuse and he felt the blood roaring in his ears. This is stupid he tried to tell himself. It did no good. His vision greyed. The sounds of the sea filled his head and the salty breeze chilled the sweat on his body. It was eons later before he realised he was lying down on the way too short sofa, his legs hanging over the end.

'Hey,' Scully said softly when she saw his eyes focus. She was fastening off the end of the bandage. 'Just stay there for a few minutes and then I'll help you to bed.'

'What?' His insides felt shaky. All the roast beef he'd eaten at dinner was horribly active.

'You fainted. Well sort of. You were only barely unconscious. More like not quite here.' She scooted closer and put an arm around his shoulders. 'I'm sorry. I had no idea your arm upset you so much.'

'Feel silly.'

'No. You're still fairly weak, it was too much.'

Mulder felt too tired to say anything. He drank in the comfort she was offering and closed his eyes.

Scully was concerned by this un-Mulder like lassitude. 'Maybe we shouldn't go Whale Watching tomorrow.'

'No!' He struggled to sit up. 'I want to see the whales. That's what we came here for. They're out there,' he waved towards the door. 'They're just out there in the water. Listen you can hear them.'

Scully hid her grin in his hair. That was more like it. 'Mulder whales use sound to communicate with one another, not you.' She gave him the look. 'Underwater. You can't hear them sitting in a motel room on land.'

'You can too Scully. I can.' He struggled upright. 'Whales have a really complex communication system. It's not just sound. They're possibly telepathic. I can hear them. They're calling me. They're out there and they know I'm here. They're waiting. We have to go out tomorrow.'

'You're going to bed now!' Which was not what he was expecting her to say after that little tirade.

'Aw Mom,' his mouth quirked. He had sounded a little ridiculous. Shaky and cold he allowed her to lead him to bed.

The unit had two bedrooms. The boys were asleep in one. The other had two beds, a single and a queen. Mulder's stuff was somehow spread on both. Scully's case was on the rack by the closet.

Scully lead him to the large bed pulled back the covers and sat him down. He buried his face in her tummy as she stood in front of him. He didn't want to let her go.

'Get into bed Mulder.'

'Scully?'

'Pills.' She handed them over along with the glass of water she'd already left by the bed. 'Get into bed.' She pulled the covers over him and tucked them in. Bending down she gave him a chaste kiss.

'Scully?'

'Shh.' She smiled and opened her case, finding her toilet kit and her nightdress (not the one her mother had made her buy the day before they left.) 'I'll be right back.'

In spite of nervous anticipation because Scully hadn't said where she was going to sleep, and in spite of the lights being on, Mulder was asleep before she came back. So maybe her facial routine did take a bit of time. He was curled on his side, protecting his arm, or maybe just self-comforting. With a little sigh Scully flicked his dirty socks on to the floor and shifted the teddy off the pillow. She climbed into the other side of the bed. Mulder mumbled something and turned into her embrace. She kissed his forehead and turned out the light.

Leviathan Motor Inn

Wed 15th

8.30 am

Mulder shut the door behind Scully and the boys. They were wandering up the road to the shop to pick up some more milk and have a look around the town. There was still an hour before the courtesy van for the Whale Watch tour came to pick them up. What was really happening was that Scully was subtly leaving him to have an uninterrupted sit in the bathroom. He hated the fact that she knew so much about the state of his bowels. Well he'd deal to that in a minute but he had something else to do first.

He wandered into their room, feeling warm and hugged just looking at the bed they'd shared. On the dresser he spotted what he was looking for, a large black toilet bag that contained things Paula had felt necessary for the maintenance and care of her children. Mulder sloped over and picked it up. What he was looking for had slid under a packet of hearing aid batteries. He pulled out the slide of Davy's travel sickness pills. Scully had already given Davy one, she said they worked better if they were taken at least an hour before they were needed. Mulder knew he was going to be needing something too but there was no way he wanted Scully to know how badly he got seasick. The pills were in their foil wrapper with "SeaLegs" printed on it. He knew he had the right tablets but there was no cardboard packet to tell him the dosage. He thought about it. Scully had given Davy one tablet. Mulder was at least twice his size. He took two. Carefully he placed the pills back where he found them and placed the bag back exactly where he had found it. Then he headed for the bathroom.

Sometime later Mulder sat on the balcony contemplating the similarities between his life and Rod's. The boy's story last night at dinner had been something of a revelation. So much was the same and yet so much was different. He watched the sea sparkling where the morning sun caught the waves and was surprised at the yearning he felt to be out there, surrounded by nothing but ocean. For some reason this ocean was calling him.

He pictured a little boy standing on a beach, watching; waiting. Waiting for the return of not one girl but two. Waiting for the return of his beloved cousins. Two girls who had climbed into a boat and gone away, two trusted playmates that had never come home. Two members of his family missing when it should have been him. For he was the one who had talked with the boatman and happily agreed to go sailing. He had gone up to the beach house and told Sally and Jessica and then run to tell his sister Kathleen that there was a man waiting on the beach to take them sailing. Kathleen had been a good girl and had gone to ask Mum if it was okay. Mum had said no. By the time Rod got back to the beach the boat was gone. And so were the girls. They were never ever seen again.

Rod had been twelve. His description of the man and the boat had been of very little use to the police. There had been no one else on the small private beach. According to Brad and Davy, their Aunt Kathleen said their Dad was still looking.

Mulder watched the docile looking sea. Poor Rod. The boys didn't seem to have any idea of the way their father must have been affected. They had told the story with relish, like a ghost story that has the power to scare you but you know isn't really real. No wonder Rod had felt the need to remove his children from danger, he must be acutely aware of their safety.

Several fishing boats moved across the bay and Mulder watched without paying attention lulled by the warm sun. His body still ached from his traumas and the sun felt good. The family must have been devastated. It must have been very hard not to blame Rod. They probably had. Mulder knew what that was like. He shivered. But he had a feeling Rod had still been loved and forgiven. Rod had been twelve, the same age as him. He watched the boats bobbing in the swell as they moved out of the bay. He'd be out there too soon. Gulls cried and it was so peaceful. Two little girls just floated out to sea…

Oh fuck!

Realisation flared.

He dived inside for the phone.

On Board Whale Watch Boat " Wai-iti"

10.00 am

The thrum of the powerful engines resonated through Mulder's body, a white sensation that only added to his heightened sense of awareness as the tourist boat headed out to sea. He tuned it out, concentrated instead on the pattern the water below the rail made as it slid past the hull. The speakers were burbling, the guide, a guy with an unpronounceable name, was busy telling the story of a whale being someone's guardian angel. The Maori names and words that the story was peppered with rendered it incomprehensible to Mulder. He could only process the most basic of input from other directions as his focus was totally taken with the water which looked like shot taffeta unravelling behind them.

To his relief, he didn't feel at all uncomfortable as the semi inflatable rode across the waves. If anything he felt exhilarated, really alive with the spume-laden air in his face. The water was so clear pure blue he was sure he could see all the way to the bottom hundreds of feet below. Their boat and a larger one containing the bus load of Japanese tourists from last night were heading approximately eight miles off shore to the edge of the Kaikoura trench. A small pod of sperm whales, the largest animals on the planet, were spending time in the location and the boats were going out to find them. We are going to see the whales, Mulder's mind sang. Going to see the whales.

A small grey shape slid alongside the boat. And another, and then another. Sleek and silvery they darted like shadows, crossing and weaving, occasionally jumping, appearing and disappearing. He watched transfixed as the dolphins led the way. The pandemonium among the school party on the boat as they dived for cameras and fought for space at the rail escaped him completely. There was just Mulder and the dolphins and the water as they headed out to sea.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

'Mulder. Are you okay?'

He dragged his eyes away from the water and up to her eyes.

'Mulder!' Her voice was alarmed. Her hand went to his face, opening his eyes and turning his face to the light. 'Have you hit your head?' Her hands searched his scalp. 'Mulder. What's the matter? What's happened to you?'

'I'm fine.' He swatted her hands away. 'Scully I'm fine.'

'No you're not. What have you done?' She gave him an all encompassing stare. He turned his gaze back to the water and ignored her. The sun had come out and hundreds of kaleidoscopic sparkles whirled in the water with the dolphins. The diamond flashes were streaking through his brain, he could hear them.

Scully shook him. The flashes jumped to her eyes. Her voice was caramel smooth and coffee dangerous. 'How many did you take?'

He blinked at her.

'What,' she said exasperated; 'did you,' shake, 'take?'

The boat crested a larger wave and crashed into the hollow knocking her off balance. With a 'whoof' of expelled air she ended up in his lap. He grimaced as his arm jarred but let go of the rail to steady her with his other hand. The sudden pain stimulated enough neurones to let him know he was in trouble. The trouble twisted until they were nose to nose and stared at him. Her eyes changed to compassionate. 'You get sea-sick don't you? I forgot.'

Mulder gave the barest nod.

'Did you take something? Did you take Davy's pills?'

He hung his head.

She put her hand under his chin and lifted it until he was looking at her again. 'How many?'

'Two.'

'Mulder!' Mocca cream. 'One is the normal adult dose. With everything else you're taking you only need half. Jesus. I suppose we're lucky you didn't take three.'

Scully swearing was upsetting but he deserved it. He knew he'd been stupid. He tightened his grip on her and her arms came around him for a hug. She pressed her forehead to his. 'You're spaced out but you'll be okay.' She sighed. 'You'll probably just go to sleep. It won't be very comfortable,' she indicated the hard bench they were sitting on, 'but it won't hurt you. You'll just miss most of the trip.'

Mulder moaned and she kissed him lightly. 'You are an idiot. Why didn't you come to me?' She slid onto the seat beside him and pulled him back against her. The boat rode up the side of another wave. He leaned into her and turned back to watch the dolphins.

The whales when they came were enormous. Davy had never imagined anything like them in his life. There were two and they were so big, bigger than elephants, bigger than the boats, bigger than anything. They gambled as freely as the dolphins that had played around the boat earlier but these creatures were rougher, their skins coated with barnacles that they were close enough to see. They surfaced beside the boat like a small city rising to the surface, water streaming off their flanks and then equally as quickly they disappeared to reappear giving a show for the other boat. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Occasionally they whacked the water with their great tails sending a rippled of suppressed fear through the puny people.

Brad pulled at his sleeve to get his attention. Davy had turned off his hearing aids as the motors had over ridden all sound and made the aids useless for hearing speech. Brad knew that and now he was signing to his brother, giving an abbreviated version of the commentary.

"They're Sperm Whales," his hands signed. "But only kids. The whalers used to kill them in the thousands." His hands were flying and he struggled to keep up. "These two are about fifteen years old. They often spend summer around here. There's lots to eat. They don't know if they're girls or boys yet." The school girls were all shrieking and acting scared. He had to admit, if they wanted to the whales could easily flip the boat. One of them dived, throwing its tail high in the air. Cameras whirred and clicked.

Dana was snapping away at the rail with the school teachers. She turned and motioned for the boys to line up against the rail to be in a photo too. Over her shoulder the boys could see Mulder who had been slumped, boneless as a jelly fish on one of the back seats. Dana had told them about the overdose of seasick pills. Brad thought that was hilariously funny. Adults weren't supposed to do things that geeky. Languidly Mulder turned and leaned over the rail gazing at the sea. Then to their horrified surprise he kept on leaning and flopped over and out of sight.

'No!' Brad screamed. 'Shit! Mulder. God. Shit!' He and Davy raced for the back of the boat. God, he couldn't swim in the state he was in could he? Even if he could he'd go under the boat. 'Man overboard!' Brad screamed. He was dimly aware of Dana pushing past him, the crew suddenly rushing for life preservers, the school girls screaming. Then he skidded to the rail and peered over.

The boat load of people piled up behind him and he heard the cameras start again as he finally managed to take a shaky breath and his heart gave a tremendous thunk in his throat. 'Arrgh,' he groaned.

'Cool!' he heard Davy roar.

Right next to the boat, enormous and solid was another whale. Lying on the diving platform at the back of the boat was Fox Mulder. He was infinitely smaller than the whale. He was eye to eye with the leviathan. Feet in the water and precariously tossed by the waves, his body was stretched as far out as he could get it. It would only take one wrong move on the part of the creature or Mulder himself for him to be in mortal danger.

For a moment time stood still. The creature's head, nearly the size of the boat stayed perfectly in formation, just watching the man only inches from it. On the platform usually used by divers to get back on the boat, just above the deep blue sea the man braced himself and reached out to the rough skin. The assembled people were hushed, awed at what they saw. There was no question that there was some communion between the man and the beast. Then suddenly the crew members, more used to whales and slightly less awed than the others remembered their responsibilities. Or maybe they thought of American tourists and lawsuits.

Before anyone else could move a burly crew member was on the platform grabbing hold of Mulder by the belt of his jeans. Another leaned over, took hold of his jacket and before anyone could blink he was over the rail and sprawled on the deck.

The captain stood over him. 'Jeeze man. What the fuck…?' The captain remembered his other passengers. Beating the impulse to kick the stupid yank bastard he turned and stalked back to restart the boat and take them all back, safely, to land.

Brad watched. The whale just disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6

Motel Room

Motel Room

Kaikoura

Wed 15

8pm

'Okay Mum. Davy says he loves you too. I will yeah. Okay. Night Mum.' Brad heaved a sigh and changed the telephone to the other ear. 'Okay. I will. I said I would okay.' His voice softened. 'Yeah, night Mum.' He held the phone out towards Scully. 'She wants to talk to you.'

'Thanks.' Scully shifted into the chair Brad had just vacated and took the receiver. 'Paula. How are you doing? Are you missing them?'

Brad joined Mulder and Davy on the terrace. 'I didn't tell them about you,' he told Mulder.

Mulder grunted.

'You really are a different sort of person aren't you?' Brad said.

'Yeah. I am.' Mulder didn't like this conversation and kept his eyes front and centre, out to sea. He was feeling acutely embarrassed about his behaviour that morning but he didn't know how to explain that to a child. The worst part had been having to be helped from the boat and his arm still hurt from the mishandling it had received during the whole incident. Amazing how it hadn't hurt when he'd been lying on the deck beside the whale.

When they'd got back he had been soaking wet and off his face. Brad had had to help Scully get him upstairs to their room and put him to bed. Christ, that wasn't the way adults should act. He could barely face the kid.

'What was it like?' Brad asked.

'What?'

'The whale?'

He looked up into Brad's gaze of awe.

'You touched it. What was it like.' Brad nodded encouragingly.

Mulder smiled. He would never forget. 'Like…' What was it like? He had no frame of reference. 'It was alive. Yet it was so big. I know the figures, sperm whales are up to eighty foot long, they can weigh seventy tonnes. It was like touching the side of a building but it was looking at me with as much intelligence as you are. It was looking at me, assessing me. It knew I wasn't a threat, that the boat wasn't a threat and it let me know that I was safe too. Whales have the biggest brains of any living creature, who knows what they know. They have methods of communication we know barely anything about. We're just guessing. I just felt…' he searched around for the right adjectives. 'Right. Privileged. Alive. It was like finding a real live EBE.' He suddenly realised it wasn't Scully he was talking to. 'It was awesome,' he finished lamely.

'Cool.' Brad's face was split by a wide smile. 'I took a photo. I'll send you a copy.'

'Thanks.'

They sat in companionable silence until Scully came out.

'Mulder. Can you sort out the laptop and work the modem? Paula's sent Davy an email. She thinks Rod's sent you something too.'

When Davy had read his message and sent his mother one in reply he turned the laptop over to Mulder. 'There's a message here from Dad. I haven't read it.'

Oh yeah, Mulder thought looking at the boy's twinkling eyes. 'What's so funny?' he asked as he seated himself on the couch near the phone jack.

Davy grinned at him. 'You're going to like tomorrow,' he said enigmatically. He skipped out on to the terrace to join the others.

Intrigued Mulder read his messages. There were two. Rod started with a report of the day's investigation, including the wealth of new leads thrown up by Mulder's surmise that the unsub was targeting Rod in some way. Did Mulder think the unsub had known Rod or his cousins as children, had he been involved in that case somehow, or was he someone with a grudge against him who had done some thorough research? What exactly was he trying to tell them? Rod had teams looking into all those scenarios. He would appreciate any help Mulder could give in narrowing things down. He was sure however that Mulder was right and that for some reason he was the target. "Thank God," Rod finished fervently, "the boys are away from it all." And Mulder read the unwritten message. "Keep your eyes open and keep them safe."

The second message had been sent later in the day from Rod's home computer. Mulder stared at it bemused. 'Hey Scully, what do you think of this?'

'What?' She settled beside him and read over his shoulder.

"Just a note of warning: Wasn't going to say anything but don't want you put off. Mrs Mac isn't like most people you know. She is very Maori. You'll never have met anyone like her. Just go with it. :-) Have a nice time. Rod"

'He means Mrs McIlhenney at Bush Bay doesn't he?' Mulder asked.

'Yep.'

'Well what does he mean?'

Scully grinned. 'We're not in Kansas any more Mulder. I think we're in for a cultural experience.'

'As long as we don't have to eat grubs…' He brightened. 'How old is she. Maybe she'll be wearing one of those grass skirts.'

'You go groping up skirts and you might find Mr McIlhenney standing around with one of those lethal looking clubs those pretend warriors were brandishing last night.'

'You'd look good in one of those outfits the women were wearing Scully.' His hands sketched the bustier part of the costume in the air.

'Mmm Mulder.' It took all of her self control not to raise her eyebrow at him. 'I can't see you tattooed and in a loin cloth.' She dropped her gaze to his groin. 'I just can't see it staying up.'

Mulder gapped for only a second before shoving the computer at the side table and lunging for her. 'Bitch,' he hissed as he started to tickle. He jabbed randomly at her stomach as she shrieked, holding her still by lying across her legs. 'Take that back.'

'Nope,' she gasped, writhing under him as he made a dart for her neck and them poked her in the side. 'Ahh,' as he poked her shoulder, retaining enough sense not to defend herself too vigorously. She made a grab for his hand and them found herself suddenly quite still as Mulder unconsciously bent and blew a raspberry on her stomach bared where her tee shirt had ridden up.

He stilled too as he felt her hands in his hair and realised what he'd done, where he was. 'Umm…' He sat up carefully, relieved to see that she was looking at him kindly. 'I've never played a tickling game with a grown up before,' he said apologetically. To his relief Scully giggled.

'Well then. I'm honoured to be your first,' she said with a smile as she allowed him to pull her into a sitting position. They straightened their clothes, sat primly side by side and looked at the boys who were standing either side of the doorway watching them.

Brad spoke first. 'You could always tell us to go to bed if you wanted.'

'Hey, no way,' Davy broke in. 'Fox is going to teach me some poker tricks. Aren't you Fox?'

Mulder grinned. 'Of course.' He ignored Scully's very obvious eyebrow. 'Just um,' he wriggled in his jeans that were suddenly startlingly tight, 'give me a minute will you.' And as nonchalantly as he could he walked to the bathroom.

11pm

The boys had finally gone to bed and Mulder gave serious consideration to sleeping alone in the second bed in their room. In the end he couldn't bring himself to do it. The last few nights had given him the most comfortable, comforting sleeps he could ever remember. He loved being so close to Scully.

Being that close to Scully was so much more than sexual but the memory of her warm stomach against his lips was driving him wild. The trouble was that he wasn't willing to follow through with more of the same until he knew she was okay with what he had to tell her. Since he was too terrified of her reaction to try telling her yet, he had to deal with at least some of the problem in the shower. Which meant that when he came to her for clean dressings he was feeling embarrassed and ashamed. He'd also stayed hiding out in the shower when he'd finished for so long he'd gone wrinkly.

Recognising some of the signals Mulder was giving off Scully kept quiet, bending over his arm, shielding it from his view in order to avoid a repeat of last night's fainting episode. He wanted her touch desperately, she knew that but what the hell was wrong with him? And what the hell was he waiting for? Did she have to make the next move? She'd already initiated their first kiss, surely he could take over from here. Every time she thought he might be working up to getting closer he suddenly shied away. She was fully aware what he'd done in the shower and it hurt a little, but mainly it made her sad. She gentled the cream into the skin of his arm, pleased to see everything healing so well.

She looked up to see him peering at her from under his wet fringe. He hadn't combed it back yet. Thank god his hair had grown back. He'd looked such a thug for a while. 'All right?' she asked.

His hand twitched in hers. 'Getting better.'

'Good.' She lay gauze over the suture lines and started bandaging. 'It is going to get better Mulder. You know that don't you?'

'Do I?' he said so softly she barely heard him.

Scully taped off the end of the bandage and stood up pulling him to his feet. 'Let's go to bed G man.' Surprised when he didn't respond at all she snorted, trying to lighten the mood. 'I think it's past your bed time.'

But Mulder wasn't prepared to lighten up. 'Yeah,' he mumbled. 'I think it is.'

By the time Scully had changed and brushed her teeth he was already pretending to be asleep. She watched him breathing, exasperated and recognising the deception. Sighing she slid in beside him and cuddled up to his back. She felt him stiffen and then relax as he realised that that was all she was going to do. 'It will be all right Mulder. I'm here when you're ready.' She planted a soft kiss between his shoulder blades and moved back to her own side of the bed, turning out the light. She lay there rigid. It took all of her self control not to hit him.

Leviathan Motel

Thurs 16

9.00 am

Mulder leaned in the bathroom doorway and watched the activity in the unit. Scully had just finished packing the food box and was now supervising the boys. She was giving them pointers on packing which they urgently needed as their gear seemed to have exploded around the room and by some unexplained process to have expanded to twice the volume available in their bags. He watched for a few moments enjoying the moment, some good things were happening right now.

However is was time to get focused. 'Scully,' he called quietly. 'Can I speak to you for a minute.' He motioned her into their bedroom with a jerk of his head.

'What is it?' she asked puzzled as he shut the door. 'Are you…'

He held up his hand to forestall her. 'I'm fine Scully.'

'Then what's up?'

'What are we doing here Scully?'

She was still puzzled. 'I don't know,' she said. 'Taking the boys on holiday maybe?'

'Can't you see the problem with that?'

Eyebrow raised she shook her head.

'We're not taking this seriously.'

'Of course I'm taking it seriously,' she was starting to get cross. 'What are you getting at?'

'The boys,' Mulder said gently. 'It has just occurred to me that if the unsub is deliberately focusing on Rod, then these children may be at real risk. Just because we're not in Christchurch any more isn't going to make them safe.'

Scully's mouth fell open.

'Think about it. Who's car are we driving? Who booked this room? How hard would it be to find the boys right now?' He held out his hand and Scully took it. He gave her a squeeze. 'We have to keep them safe.'

Scully nodded and pulled him into a hug. 'You're right,' she told his chest. She looked up into eyes as green as the sea. 'What are we going to do?'

Mulder pulled her down onto the bed beside him leaving his arm around her waist. 'Well let's not panic here. We don't know that they are in danger, but I think we ought to take precautions. Who knows about Bush Bay?'

'Only Rod and Paula and this Mrs McIlhenney. We should still be all right to go there. Obviously we need to start passing ourselves off as a family. Although that won't work when we do get there.'

'Right.' Mulder nodded, pleased that she'd cottoned on. 'We should be okay using our own names. The unsub's not going to know us. Anyway it will only be for today. Mr and Mrs Mulder, or Mr and Mrs Scully?'

Scully kept her head down so he couldn't see her face. 'Oh I'll be Mrs Mulder I think, after all, I need the practise.' Mulder gaped at her and she glanced up to give him a very self-satisfied grin. 'Now,' she dropped her hand to his knee. 'Let's get practical. What are we going to do about the car?'

Swallowing hard Mulder was unable to get out an answer. He brought his hand around and placed it on hers, sighing deeply. With her own sigh, Scully leant into his chest and they sat quiet for a moment. 'The car,' Mulder finally squeaked. 'I um, I think I should phone Rod and see if he agrees. Then, if he does, we can leave it here at the police station and rent something.' Standing he felt cold down his right side where Scully had been. 'I think we should get on and get moving. We've been here two days. That's long enough.'

'Hey Mulder,' Scully said as he opened the door. 'Welcome back.'

'Huh?'

'You're back aren't you? You're thinking again?'

He smiled as he realised that he was. For days and days now his brain had been barely ticking over, processing minimum information on one channel only. Now things were back to normal, dozens of pieces of information colliding, sorting and processing on all levels. He hadn't even realised things weren't right until they were better. 'Yeah.' His smile showed all his teeth. 'It feels good.' He gave her a leer. 'You'd better watch out.'

'I'm watching Mulder. I'm watching.' Then she blew him a kiss. Grinning he went to find the phone.

10.35 am

Mulder idly squeezed his tennis ball as he listened to the boys argue. It wasn't the nice fuzzy green ball the doctor had given him. That one had been lost overboard yesterday. This was a mangy grey one that Davy had found on the beach and given him as a replacement. It was just as difficult to squeeze as the other one had been. He sighed and stretched. Surely Scully would be back soon. They were parked in the little space behind the very small building that housed Kaikoura's police station. From here they had a glorious view of a railway shunting yard and a car wreckers. It had long since stopped providing them with anything of interest to look at.

Squeezing the ball seemed even harder today because this morning his arm was itchy. It was itchy in a nasty crawly sort of way, and although he should be pleased because it meant things were healing, in truth it was driving him mad. Lightly rubbing his hand up the outside of the bandage was about as much sensation as he could take however so he squirmed instead, twisting and turning inside the bandages. And it made him so juddery that he kept dropping the ball.

The boys were playing with some balls of their own. Brad had bought some juggling balls yesterday but had given up trying to throw them and they were now playing a version of soccer around the car park using the back door of the station as a goal. They were bored and starting to fight.

It was a shame Sergeant Wilson hadn't felt able to leave the building unlocked, at least then they could have gone inside and made a drink. He had been helpful though. Probably because Rod had phoned him before they arrived and told him to be. With a grimace Mulder realised the ball had slipped from his hand again and he bent to pick it up. Sometimes he couldn't tell if he was holding it or not. He was going to have to face the fact that he wasn't going to be returning to field agent status any time soon. Surprisingly, that thought didn't make him feel as bad as he thought it might. 'Something is trying to tell me something,' he muttered. 'Hey guys,' he jumped up as Davy took to Brad with his fists. 'What's going on?'

'He called me names,' Davy shrilled.

'Did not!'

'Did too.'

'Did not.'

'Now come on…' Mulder interjected.

'Fucking pansy pusher,' Davy muttered.'

'You little turd. You don't even know what you're saying.' Brad was about to use his own fists. Mulder was desperately trying not to laugh.

'Hey guys.' He must teach Davy some proper swear words. 'Give me the ball.' When Davy handed it to him, he threw it in the air and sent a glorious header right into the back door. 'Goal!' he crowed. The boys gaped at him. Rather pleased with himself for the goal and his handling of the fight he grinned at them. 'Now,' he said, 'Let's sit here in the sun. Scully should be back soon. You can tell me about this Mrs Mac. What was your father not telling me?'

The boys looked at each other and shrugged. 'Well,' said Davy, 'she's really old.'

'Yeah,' said Brad. 'Really really old. And she's big.'

'Huge,' Davy agreed.

They all turned as they heard an engine. 'Speaking of big,' Mulder muttered as a large motorhome negotiated the driveway, Scully grinning at the wheel. 'It's the great white hope.' Standing slowly he whistled through his teeth as Scully dismounted, dropping nearly her own height from the driver's seat.

'Well?' she asked clearly pleased with herself. 'What do you think? We'll look the part in this.'

Omygod, Mulder thought. She's serious. Though he had to concede she did have a point. Cautiously he walked forward. Parked beside the car it seemed as large as the QEII.

'Well,' Scully demanded. 'I thought it was good idea. It only cost a little bit more than getting a car and I've booked it for the whole three weeks. That way I thought that when we leave Bush Bay we can keep it and go anywhere we want. We won't have to worry about accommodation.' She finally noticed his lack of enthusiasm. 'Come on and have a look.' She came around the side and unlocked the door.

'I never pegged you for the camping type Scully.'

'Oh don't worry. I'm not. This thing is more luxurious than most of the motels we stay in. Come on.' She took a little wooden box out of the doorway, carefully set it on the ground, stood on it and stepped inside. 'Come on.' She held out her hand. 'Mulder, come on.'

Mulder and the boys followed her in. 'Look. That's a double bed up there over the cab, but just in case you might fall out of that and injure yourself,' she said laughing, 'that table at the back folds down to make a double bed too.'

'Very funny,' Mulder muttered, stooping to avoid contact with the cupboard units that used up too much ceiling space.

'So we can have a bed each,' Scully said without breaking breath. 'It's got a full kitchen, microwave, fridge, cooker, everything. And even,' she opened a closet door with a flourish, 'it's own little bathroom with a shower.' All we have to do is top up the water tanks.'

'And empty the potty.' Mulder's wrinkling nose indicated disgust.

'Only if you use it excessively. The lady said the tank usually lasts about a month between empties and they do that when we take it back. Oh, we can return it to Christchurch if we want to too. We just have to let them know.

'Well.' She stood in the centre of a little house just the right size for her. 'What do you think?'

Mulder looked at the bathroom. He'd have to fold myself like a pretzel to fit in there. He looked at his pretty smiling partner. 'It's great,' he smiled back. 'It wasn't what I was planning for this holiday, but it will be fun.' He'd have at least a week to try and talk his way out of it.

'Mulder,' Scully said fondly. 'Nothing on this holiday is how you planned it.' She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. 'So just learn to go with the flow.'

He kissed her back. I'm flowing, he thought as her tongue found the back of his throat and turned his knees to water. If I flow any further I'll drown. He pulled away with reluctance. 'Okay, guys,' he barked. 'Let's get loaded up.'

'Scully,' he said quietly as they followed them out, 'Are you going to able to back this thing out of here?'

She gave him the same look he'd received years ago for his crack about little feet reaching the pedals. He didn't say another word.

- - - - -

They drove out of Kaikoura with "Bat Out of Hell" blaring from the camper's cassette player. Mulder had rescued the tapes from the car and they had thrown their bags in the back. The car they left locked in the police station yard.

The boys settled themselves on the back seats and were playing with their Gameboys. 'You don't think this is a good idea do you?' Scully asked.

'We were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed.' Mulder screeched along with Meatloaf. 'Huh.' He looked up at her as her words registered. 'No. No I like it. I'm just hoping that you weren't followed.'

'How likely do you think that is?'

'Not very. I don't know what this perp is going to do next but loosing Charlotte may make him willing to take risks.' He sucked on his lip. 'Then again it might not. He may have made his point anyway. I just can't get a handle on this one.'

Scully patted his knee. 'Don't worry about it. It's not really your case.'

'I know.' He smiled at her and she was surprised with just how relaxed he looked. 'We're doing out job. Right?' He nodded behind him. 'Oh,' he said, turning up the tape. I like this bit. Listen Scully. Hear the baseball commentary. Is he going to get to third base do you think?'

Scully gazed at him fondly.

'Stop right there!' Mulder and Meatloaf screeched. 'Will you love me forever, will you need me? Will you never leave me?

'Have you ever listened to these words Scully? This song used to crack me up. Meatloaf is one of the greatest popstars of the 80s.'

'Oh. How do you figure that?'

'Well just think about it Scully. What were the eighties? They were about beauty; Charlies Angels, Princess Di, the cult of the beautiful. Then think about Meatloaf. He was fat and he sweated like a pig. He made no effort to be anything other than what he was and he sold brilliant records by the millions and played to ecstatic audiences who mobbed him wherever he went. Why?' He shrugged. 'Because he was good. That's why. He spoke for us all.' Mulder patted his chest. 'Right here. Listen…

'Will you love me to the end of time. Yes I'll love you till the end of time.' The melody changed becoming sweeter yet more manic. 'And now I'm praying for the end of time, there aint no doubt about it…' Mulder petered out.

"Cause if I have to spend another minute with you I don't think that I can really survive" Meatloaf sang alone as Scully laughed. "So I'm praying for the end of time so I can end my time with you"

Scully laughed and laughed.

'What?' Mulder asked sulkily.

'You,' she gasped.

'Keep your eyes on the road.'

'Brilliant lyrics Mulder, but you forgot how it ended. Didn't you remember that bit?'

'Not well enough obviously.'

'The baseball score was the only bit that sunk in huh.'

'Mmmph.'

'Actually Mulder I have listened to that song before.'

She reached over and patted his hand but Davy interrupted anything else she may have said. He'd come up the front and was leaning through the gap in the seats. 'The seal colony's just up here. Can we stop?'

They watched sleek fat seals flop around on the rocks and in the waves and then Mulder settled himself across the back seat with a pillow and Davy moved into the front seat. Brad settled himself on his bag on the floor behind his brother's seat.

Once they left the coast, the journey through to Blenheim was through undulating farm land. The motor home might have started life as a small truck but it drove like a geriatric delivery van. It was heavy on the steering and completely lacking in acceleration. It was heavy going, barely accelerating to highway speed coming down the small hills before it slowed going up the next one. Scully supposed it kept tourists from speeding and wrecking the things but driving like this was intensely irritating and exhausting.

An hour later she had finally managed to pass a sheep truck that had been accelerating and slowing even worse than they had. With a sigh of relief she saw the ground level out and stay that way and brought the van up to 100kms/hr. Mulder's head popped out between the seats.

'Stop. Scully stop.'

'What?' Alarmed she hit the brakes, pulling off to the side, looking in all directions to assess the threat.

'There.' Mulder pointed to a roadside sign. 'Look. Strawberries.'

'Strawberries?' The truck roared past, the driver giving an internationally recognised hand signal. Scully sighed.

'Yeah see. It's summer here. Strawberries. PYO.'

'Pick you own,' Brad supplied.

'Please,' they entreated.

Scully sagged then grinned. It would be good to stop. 'Fine. Whatever.' She backed up carefully and turned in the driveway. 'You know Mulder. Strawberries are just what you need. They're full of vitamin C and really high in fibre.'

'Scully,' he warned.

'Brad, have a look in the cupboards and see what you can find we can put berries in.'

An hour later, gorged on strawberries and pink from the sun they moved on. Scully had been amused but not surprised to learn that Pick Your Own berries cost more that the ready packaged ones. Their little mock family had certainly eaten their money's worth.

Therefore she was not surprised either when no one called out "Stop" when McDonald's golden arches appeared on the outskirts of Blenheim. They had planned to have lunch and then do their grocery shopping in what was the largest town they would be passing through. Not having been able to go straight to Bush Bay had meant that Paula had been unable to stock them up with food and they would have to buy their own supplies.

A large supermarket appeared and Scully swung the van into the parking lot. 'Listen up,' she called. 'We'll get some stuff for a picnic and eat somewhere further up the road. Okay?'

'Yep.' 'Fine.' 'Cool.'

'Right. Have we got a shopping list?'

Mulder gave her a get real look and turned to the boys. 'Shall we show her how guys shop?' They eagerly nodded. 'You up for it Scully?'

She shrugged and decided to humour them. 'Okay.' She had a fair idea what they needed and she'd keep an eye on things.

'Great,' Mulder shrugged back into his sling. 'Let's go shopping.'

Following slowly in their wake Scully watched as the males whooped across the parking lot and in through the doors. When she caught up with them they were in the vegetable section discussing the merits of hydroponic versus naturally grown lettuce. Scully was impressed when Mulder collected one of each and biffed them in the trolley. The lettuces fell on a bunch of carrots and a cucumber already sitting there. She wondered whether he was buying them for her or if he really intended to eat them.

Brad added a bunch of bananas and Davy some grapes and they moved on. Scully took her own trolley and collected potatoes, beans, garlic and ginger and some wonderful looking oranges.

The aisle opened out into the meat section and she was fairly sure that Mulder would pick up lots. Even so she added some chicken breasts to her load. After watching for a while she decided that guy shopping meant trolling through all the aisles taking anything that caught their eyes. She tried to think of what they would and wouldn't notice and went seeking washing powder only to find the boys coming from the opposite direction with the same thought in mind. She looked up to see Mulder and a bulging trolley trotting along behind. 'Tell you what,' he said, 'You show me yours and I'll show you mine.'

With a shrug she gave up. She walked along with them as they used her trolley for the overflow. In an aisle of dry goods she loaded up with quick cook risottos and pasta dishes and giggled when all three males reached for custard powder at the same time. The fridge/freezer unit in the van meant they could avail themselves of the icecream choices. They took four different two litre containers because none of them could agree on what they wanted. Scully had Maple Walnut, Mulder something called Hokey Pokey. Davy went for Chocolate Mud and Brad for Boysenberry Ripple.

They loaded up with bread and milk, the men had already done the cookie aisle, and last of all they meandered through confectionary. With two laden trolleys they rolled up to the checkout. Mulder looked at the heap happily. 'See Scully. That's guy shopping.'

'Yes Mulder. I admit that is impressive.' Obviously the check out lady thought so too. She had a hair do that looked as if she was battling into a strong wind and her eyebrows raised in astonishment when she realised the two trolleys came together.

'You do realise this is going to have to last a whole week?' Scully said. She winked at the operator. 'You can't eat it all tonight.

'There are no shops where we're going,' she told the woman.

'I wouldn't be worried love,' the woman said as she scanned the icecream. 'Don't think anybody's going to be going hungry with this lot. You could feed an army on manoeuvres. Heading up the Sounds are you?'

'Ah yes,' Mulder said thinking frantically, trying to remember names he'd seen on the map. 'French Pass? Was that the name of the place honey?' He hoped that was somewhere miles from Bush Bay. He glared at the boys daring them to contradict.

'Oh lovely,' the woman replied unconcerned. 'It's beautiful. You'll love it. How are you going to keep this icecream cold? Where are you folks from?' She chattered on.

Mulder had to over ride Brad's attempt to pay with his mother's cash card.

The small motorhome freezer wasn't big enough for four tubs of icecream. It would only take three.

As they passed out of town there were many fruit orchards and vineyards. Scully pulled over at a road side stall and bought a kilo of cherries. They were as big as plums and as rich and sweet as any she'd ever eaten.

A little while later they came to a river and pulled into a small picnic area. Using one of the sleeping bags that came with the camper as a picnic rug Scully laid out fresh rolls, cold chicken and salad. Davy looked at the salad. 'Didn't we buy any peanut butter?'

Scully laughed. 'If we didn't, it's the only thing we haven't got.'

When it was time for desert they drew straws and Brad lost. With strawberries and cherries on the side (and on the top and underneath) they ate the Boysenberry Ripple icecream; all of it, they had no way to keep it.

Full and replete Mulder lay back and watched the patterns the leaves made against the sky. His arm itched and he squirmed idly running his fingers over the bandage. He could hear the boys, passing vehicles, crickets and the sound of the river, moving sluggishly in the sun.

His arm itched, unthinkingly he scratched. And woke with a start at the pain caused by the touch. 'Ow!' Christ! He'd been asleep. 'Scully,' he called panicked, 'Wake up. We've been asleep.'

'Mulder,' said a voice just behind his ear, 'for your information, I am not asleep. I have not been asleep and the boys are just over there trying to dam that stream. Did something sting you?'

Struggling up he saw her sitting against the tree, the map book and "Let's Go" guide open in her hand. She was close enough to touch. He screwed his arm around irritably trying to ease the crawly feeling against the dressings. He daren't try touching it again. Seeing wasps crawling around the empty icecream container he realised her question wasn't entirely idle. Then he noticed something else. Was he seeing double or were there now two motorhomes in front of him. He blinked. There were two. Same make and model, same company logos and racing stripes painted on the sides. He had no idea which one was theirs.

'What time is it?'

'It's nearly three.' She touched a hand to his face. 'You've been asleep a while. I was going to wake you soon, we ought to get going.' She indicated the map. 'Paula says it's about three hours from here although it's not actually very far on the map. Apparently it's an awful road.'

Mulder leaned closer to see. The page resembled an x ray of a badly broken hand with land making the bones with water in between. It was a mess of bays, islands, peninsulas and fiords. She traced the route with a finger. Bush Bay was out near the jagged seaward edge but facing back inland onto a stretch of water that was actually a long way from the sea. 'The road winds all the way around these bays see. And apparently once we get past here,' she stabbed a finger, 'it's unsealed.'

'Great.' His fingers twitched as he tried not to scratch.

Scully noticed. 'I'll have a look at that tonight. It's about time to take the stitches out.'

'No.'

'Yes.' She grinned and picked up the "Let's Go" changing the subject. 'Do you know Bush Bay gets a mention in here. There's a Pa site on the hill, I think that's a fortified village, and it's supposed to be haunted.'

'Rod said something about a ghost. What does it say?'

'Not much. Just that the ghost of Rang..itu… someone or other still walks the hills seeking revenge for the death of his sister.'

Mulder grinned. 'Sounds like my kind of ghost. If we don't get a move on we'll never get to meet him.'

Scully had a sudden vision of Mulder haunting the halls of the Hoover building. 'Meeting with a ghost was never my intention.' She thought of something. 'Mulder. What happened to UFOs over Kaikoura? Weren't you going to contact some people?'

Mulder scuffed at the ground. Scully waited. 'Mulder what?'

'I ah… I made that up.'

'What?!'

'There have been UFO sightings in Kaikoura but there are theories that they can be explained away by experiments the New Zealand airforce was doing at the time. From what I understand there are rational explanations for the lights sighted.' He looked up but his face was shut down. 'Whales come to Kaikoura because of the abundance of food provided by the antarctic currents off the continental shelf. There is no connection, not that I know of anyway. I made it up.'

Scully just stared at the naughty little boy hanging his head in front of her.

'Not that I'm completely discounting the idea that whales could communicate with EBEs. After meeting that whale yesterday I'm sure whales can do much more than we give them credit for.'

Scully wasn't going to be side tracked. 'Why?'

'I wanted you to come here.' His mumble was so low she could barely hear it.

'And you didn't think I'd come with out some cock and bull story?'

'No.'

'Excuse me.'

'No.' His voice was stronger.

'Mulder.' She lifted his chin. 'Do you trust me?'

That got him. 'Oh god Scully. Of course I do. You know I do.'

'Good. Don't lie to me again. If you want something ask me. Okay.'

'Okay.'

'Good. Now let's get going.'

'Right. Umm…'

Scully raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'Ask me Mulder.'

'Can I kiss you?'

'Of course.' She leant in to him and for a moment the blood roared in his ears before she pulled back. 'Later,' she whispered shakily. 'We need to get going.'

They found the boys down by the water. They had dammed a small side stream of the main river with rocks and sticks but it wasn't stopping much water. With the help of the two little German girls from the other camper they were plugging the holes with mud and tufts of grass. A common language didn't seem to be needed for getting wet and dirty. The girl's parents sat on the rocks watching. They didn't seem to be worried about the state their children were in.

The couple looked up and smiled when they saw Mulder and Scully. 'He is awake,' the man said indicating Mulder.

'Yes,' Scully smiled. 'I didn't even have to give him a kiss.'

Mulder could see the man's mind working, translating and then getting the joke before he chortled delightedly. 'Be careful,' he said cautiously in heavily accented English. 'Maybe he is a frog.'

Mulder laughed. The joke was close enough. 'Maybe I am.' He poked his tongue out as far as it would go and wiggled it. 'You never know.' Scully snorted.

They went down to the water to admire the children's handiwork. 'Come on guys. Time to go,' Scully said.

'You are leaving now?' the German asked. 'We must too I think.' He watched as his wife stripped their daughters and made them sit naked in the pool they had created to rinse off. The girls splashed and shrieked with delight. Their skin glowed pink and white where their mother managed to rub it clean.

Scully made the boys stand at the edge and rinse their feet, hands and faces. They were far too old to strip off and dunk. Luckily they weren't too dirty.

'We go,' the German continued, 'Wo ist?' He conferred with his wife. 'It is called French Pass. It is a long drive I think.' He shrugged. 'Maybe we get there today. Maybe we don't. It will not matter. It is the journey that matters is it not? You too have camper van, yes?'

Scully smiled. 'That's right. We too have a long drive. Come on boys. Time to go.' Like Mother Goose she shepherded them up the hill.

'That was a bit of luck,' Mulder said, as they drove back onto the road, the other van on their tail. 'If anyone over heard us in the supermarket or questions the checkout lady, there really is a motorhome going out to French Pass today.' He dived into the bag of cherries. 'These are good. You should have bought more. And both of these vehicles being the same will confuse things.'

Scully just smiled. Mulder's paranoia was such a part of his existence he wouldn't be able to function without it.

Twenty minutes later in a small town called Havelock the two vans parted company. Scully took a sharp turn to the right and tooted and waved as the other van continued straight ahead along the main road. She couldn't see any of the three cars that were behind them show any signs of indecision at the intersection. They all followed the main road straight through.

Havelock, a pretty little town, sat on a mud-flatty harbour surrounded on all sides by hills. It was at the very inland reaches of the Marlborough Sounds. From here they had to wind their way around the inlets until they were only a stone's throw from the sea. Climbing out of the town Scully pulled over at the top of the hill where a wide shoulder was well used as a look out. They climbed out. Between the map and the boy's recollections they worked out that they were looking nearly directly down the sound that they were heading to the end of. They were looking at a body of water pointing like a phallic sign to the north. To the left the water curled around the hill back to Havelock. To the right, the testicles for the phallus, there was a wide enclosed bay. Dark green forested hills ran down to the waters in layer upon less distinct layer. It was awesome. It was also obvious that they had a very long way to go.

Mulder was map reading.

'See Scully, Bush Bay here is on Kenepuru Sound, this one we can see here. But only just over this skinny hill,' his finger pointed to the map, 'here is Queen Charlotte Sound and the lodge that those kids disappeared from in that case of Rod's a few years ago.'

'I know Mulder. That's how come he discovered Bush Bay. Back when they were trying to find what had happened to those teenagers. I think they must have searched over the hill even though they were fairly sure the kids had been killed and dumped at sea.'

'Did they find the bodies? I can't remember.'

'No. But they got the perp. He never confessed to anything but they got him on the forensics.'

'Wonderful stuff this forensic science.'

'Mulder.'

'Just trying to make conversation.'

The road was narrow and over hung with foliage. At this stage it ran about sixty to one hundred feet above the water with only tantalising glimpses available through the trees. The sun was bright and the water was sparkling with tiny waves. Mulder couldn't keep his eyes off it. On this protected inland water the sea was calm more often than not. The vegetation was subtropical, bright and lush. A creeping vine with large pink and yellow passion flowers created a dominant contrast to all the greens.

It was stunningly beautiful. It was torturous driving.

The van seemed very large on the winding road and Scully was starting to ask herself if she regretted hiring it. She was very cautious in her handling of it. It would never do to drive off the bank. Or even to scrape the paint off on the branches. Work wasn't paying for this rental. Vehicles passed them in either direction, cars overtaking them apparently suicidally on blind corners. But there were very few other types of corners. Of course Scully mused, they know the road. Or she hoped they did. They must know where to look ahead to spot if anything was coming. Within half an hour she was feeling the strain of this driving. Her shoulders were tense, she was leaning forward. Mulder, she was grateful, wasn't saying a word.

The road wound down to sea level and she pulled over by a beachfront reserve. She opened the window and took a long draft of sea tinted warm air and leaned back into the seat cushion with a sigh.

Mulder's hand reached over and rubbed her shoulder. She turned her head to allow him access to her neck. 'We're here,' he pointed at a spot on the map. They'd come a little further than she'd expected.

'I feel sick,' Davy's voice said in her ear.

The next two hours were the stuff of nightmare. Inspite of getting out for a walk around and in spite of taking a travel sickness pill in the morning twenty minutes further up the road Davy proceeded to be very sick. "Sea Legs" were no match for ultra windy roads when combined with the swaying of a top heavy vehicle AND nearly a full pint of icecream for lunch.

The first time he yelled stop Scully managed to pull over and he got out in time. The second time he didn't and was sick in the little sink.

When she could pull over Scully climbed through the back to clean things up. Davy was grey and embarrassed and desperately trying to be brave. It nearly broke her heart.

They had stopped in an open area by a marina with an eclectic collection of boats. Looking around Scully realised that they were actually in the turning area for a resort hotel. She heaved a sigh as she looked at the hotel. The setting was beautiful and all the units were arranged to look out over the water. She wished that this was as far as they needed to go. It wasn't. She sent Brad up to the hotel shop to get some sodas and led Davy down to the water to recover a little. The boy was completely miserable.

Barely a mile further on the seal ran out. The cloud of dust thrown up by their wheels effectively covered any possible followers. Until she couldn't see anything in the mirror Scully hadn't even realised she had been looking out for vehicles that could be following them. Oh well she thought. If anyone wants to sit behind us now it won't be pleasant. She hadn't noticed anything anyway.

The gravel road had another unpleasant side effect. Almost instantly Davy was sick again. 'Do you think you'd be any better in the front?' Scully asked doubtfully as she helped him back into the van.

'God Scully no,' Mulder interjected.

Scully looked at him startled. For the first time since Davy had started feeling sick she turned her attention to her partner and her heart sank. He was as green and sick looking as the child, only he'd been paler in the first place. He didn't need to add car sick to his list of ailments.

She fossicked through the cupboards and set Davy up with the empty icecream container then after a bit of thought tipped the remaining strawberries into a pot and gave Mulder the bucket. 'Let's just keep going shall we.' No one replied. 'Are you okay Brad?'

'Hunky dory,' he said with a grimace.

They drove on.

When Mulder got sick, and he knew it would only be a matter of time, he got very sick. He called out but Scully hadn't stopped moving before he threw himself out the door. He grabbed desperately at the trees as his momentum nearly carried him over the bank, stomach heaving before he came to a stop. A blood like mess of strawberries, cherries and icecream shot from his mouth and nose to spatter over the loose gravel at the side of the road. Flashing with images of his bloody fever dreams he heaved more, mind and body reeling. His body turned inside out as the hard diamond sparkles from the water below detonated in his brain. It took a long time before he could let go of the tree.

Scully was waiting with toilet paper to blow his nose and wipe his face. She had water to sip. He accepted her ministrations, drew a shaky breath and staggered back to his seat. He didn't want to get back in there but there was no choice. Short of a three hour walk none of them had any choice.

He and Davy alternated then. One or the other would heave into his container and the other would follow suit. They were dry retching now, their stomachs empty and a rather manic Scully no longer stopped. She could do nothing else for them. She just wanted the journey to end.

The road straightened out for a section as it crossed a wide farmed valley. They seemed to be nearly at the end of the sound. Fat cattle grazed in the lush green pastures that ran from the water to the dark green bush back on the hills. Then the road began to climb, twisting and turning through switchbacks that the motor home could barely swing around. In the best of circumstances Scully would have been apprehensive about driving this road, but with the large vehicle it was scary, she was definitely regretting it now. She didn't know what she'd do if she came to a corner she couldn't get around. Mulder curled groaning at her elbow wasn't doing much for her peace of mind either. She was starting to feel slightly hysterical.

But they did get around and they didn't meet anything coming the other way. Quite suddenly a break appeared in the bush and there was a turn off with a sign saying "Bush Bay Marae and Home Stay. Holiday Cottages available. Apply at farm house." She nearly sobbed with relief.


	7. Chapter 7

The road dropped down a spur, hurtling towards the sea like it had a death wish

Bush Bay

Marlborough Sounds

Thurs 16th

5.45pm

The road dropped down a spur, hurtling towards the sea like it had a death wish. Then it took a sudden lunging turn to the left and there before them was Bush Bay. Spread out below them was a setting from a romance novel, a curve of golden beach with an azure sea. Behind the sand was a green lush garden with a large colonial homestead facing the bay at one end of it. The homestead was typical early New Zealand architecture, single story with wide verandahs, bay windows and a multitude of chimneys poking from its tin roof. Also typical of early New Zealand homesteads was a conglomeration of sheds and lean to buildings propping up the main structure.

Somewhat incongruously there were two other houses plonked in the old garden and a track to service them, parts of the grounds apparently sold off at a later date. One house was a two story "A" Frame structure, the other a smaller looking single story box. 'There,' Brad pointed at the box. 'That one's ours.'

Between the homestead and the sea where there should have been lawn was instead a flourishing vegetable garden. Scully also spotted a tennis court nestled in against the hill. A jetty jutted into the bay from a position close to the centre of the beach. It served to separate the areas. The big house, and the others.

Less than a minute later they drove out of the trees and pulled up at the back of the elderly looking homestead. From close quarters the scene was a little frayed at the edges. The house badly needed a coat of paint, the hedges and trees were very over grown and there was a collection of old car bodies slowly being covered by regrowth against the bush.

But the sun was shining and the sea was blue and they didn't have to go any further. Breathing a huge sigh of relief Scully killed the engine and climbed out. A small breeze blew through her sweaty hair and two little fantailed birds chirped around her in welcome. The air smelt sweet and grassy after the acrid stench in the van.

Moving around the front of the vehicle she saw Brad tear across the gravel parking area and straight in through the open back door of the house. He didn't bother stopping to knock. As Mulder painfully climbed down Davy crawled across to the grass and threw himself flat. Scully smiled at Mulder's pale face and took his hand. 'We made it.'

'Yeah.'

Scully was straightening herself out, preparing to go and knock when the welcoming committee made its majestic appearance. Coming through the door leaning on Brad's arm was the largest old woman Scully had ever seen. This must be Mrs McIlhenney. She was enormous. She wasn't just big, she was tall. Moving as though on castors she was easily six foot tall and round as a barrel. She was also ancient, her face weathered and brown like well polished wood, the lines of laughter and life cutting deep. Grey hair was pulled back into a tight neat bun and her bearing was regal. Her dress sense was appalling. Surprisingly she was dressed in men's slippers, brown nylon trousers topped by a shift dress with a woollen cardigan and a floral cotton apron. In her hair was a feather and she carried a frond from a tree fern. The lines on her face were set in welcome.

'Mrs Mac,' Scully whispered to Mulder.

To her right and in her shadow came an equally tall Maori man. He was barely dressed; a pair of shorts his only attire.

'The bodyguard,' Mulder whispered back.

The stood at the front of the motorhome, somehow realising that they shouldn't yet move. Davy stood and joined them. He took Scully's other hand. 'She's going to welcome you,' he told them. 'Brad and me have been welcomed before so we could just go in but we'll stay with you.' The old lady gave Brad a brief touch on his head and sent him over to stand with the group.

A silence fell. The hair on the back of Mulder's neck rose as even the crickets fell still. Somewhere rising in the silence a calling began to fill the air. 'Haere mai, haere mai, haere…' Rising in pitch and volume a chant swelled from Mrs Mac. Exotic and strange, discordant yet not unpleasant the tonal melody wrapped around them. The fern frond was waved and beaten against the woman's shoulders, raised and tapped at invisible beings in the air as her hands fluttered and her body swayed. Swish and tap. Swish and tap, swish and tap. Mulder felt the sound enter through his body, swell in his heart. Swish and tap. It reverberated in his head and exited, taking part of him with it, through the top of his skull. Swish and tap. He felt something against his palm and realised he had Scully's hand in a death grip yet he couldn't let go. He was carried into the chant, his body melting in the ululations. With a whoosh of displaced air a heavy bird shot out of the bush and past them catching Mulder's soul and taking it towards the sea. The sea flashed bright at Mulder before sun and sea melded in a flare. Swirling fern fronds and sparkling light swallowed him whole. With a small grunt he folded to the ground.

Mulder woke slowly to the realisation that his face was pressing into a squashy faded pink plush cushion. He had been drooling and the side of his face was wet. He was in the recovery position and it was terribly uncomfortable.

Fighting to free his right arm and get comfortable his surroundings started to clarify. He was lying on the cushions of a window seat and in front of him was the most cluttered looking room he had ever seen in his life. At least he thought it was. He could only see a bit of it because a large woman in a floral apron obscured most of his view. She was sitting on a chair directly in front of his head. He began to make sense of his surroundings.

'Scully?' Even though he knew it wasn't. He must have moaned. He had the headache from hell and he wasn't quite sure if all of him was here.

'Shh, tamariki.' A large solid hand lighted soothingly on his head. 'Ah. Ka pai,' and he knew Scully was there. His head was lifted and Scully placed an ordinary bedroom pillow under it. A blanket was tucked around him. He was glad of it. He was freezing. 'How do you feel?' It wasn't Scully who asked. The voice was rough as rocks and yet filled with kindness. He decided he felt safe with this strange woman.

He blinked and spotted Scully at Mrs Mac's shoulder. 'What happened?' he asked stupidly.

'You fainted,' Scully said

Vaguely he remembered the strange chant and tried to shake his head. 'No,' he said. 'The chant. The bird.' He looked up at the old Maori woman. 'What did you do?'

'Do? Me?' she snorted. 'Nothing.'

'You did. That chant, your fern leaf. Something happened.'

She gave a hrmmph noise like a hippo. 'I know my karanga is powerful but it won't make a man faint.' But she gave him a puzzled look that said "maybe" and even seemed a little pleased about it.

'What was it?'

'It is simple. It is my ancestors greeting your ancestors. We are all saying you are all welcome here is this place.' And she wasn't just meaning those physically present. 'And you fainted. You have been ill, you are dehydrated, your blood sugar was low and so too most probably your blood pressure. And,' she finished on a high note reminding him of his grandmother. 'You were standing in the hot sun with no hat on.' She raised herself ponderously from the chair. 'No mystery. Now we must make you better.' And she left the room.

Mulder looked at Scully who seemed equally bemused. She nudged him over and sat on the window seat beside him. She felt his forehead and reached for his pulse. 'Are you okay?' she asked quietly.

'I think so,' he said reaching for her hand. 'I'm sore from being sick.' He tried to describe how he felt. 'I'm hung over. My head feels horrible.'

'Hmm. Well I can't fault Mrs Mac on her diagnosis but I've no idea what she's got planned as a cure. She already fed Davy some herbal tea.'

Mulder grimaced.

'I think you had better take what she gives you. I wouldn't want to get on her bad side.'

'No you wouldn't,' a male voice joined in. 'Hi. Tom McIlhenney,' the big man held out his hand. Awkwardly Mulder shook it. He was suddenly sure that this man had carried him indoors with no help from anyone. 'My mother tends to get a bit cross with patients that don't take their medicine. It doesn't matter what it tastes like.'

'Ka pai,' Mrs Mac agreed coming back into the room. 'Tom, go and put a shirt on and clean up for dinner.' She shooed her sixty year old son as she had when he was a child. She turned to Scully. 'You'll be eating with us.' It was a statement. She held a mug out to Mulder. 'You will drink this.' That too was an instruction. She sat beside him and helped him up. Mulder was surprised at how shaky he felt and leaned gratefully into her lavender scented bulk. He sniffed suspiciously at the steam rising from the cup. The predominant scent was peppermint but there were other things in there.

She swatted him lightly on the head. 'Just drink it.'

He looked anxiously at Scully but she didn't seem concerned by what the ingredients might be. He took a cautious sip. It wasn't as hot as he had thought it was. It was slightly sweet. And it was salty. He gagged slightly in surprise.

'Aue,' his nurse said in exasperation. 'I will tell you for you do not trust me. That is right I suppose, you being American. America is a country where people no longer trust one another. In that cup is a tea made of peppermint and chamomile and some other native herbs you will not have heard of. They are all chosen to settle your stomach and make you feel better. I have sweetened it with honey for a quick glucose uptake and a quarter of a teaspoon of salt to help replace electrolytes you lost from vomiting. I am hoping that having swallowed this you will drink another. In half an hour or so you will feel like joining us for a meal and your recovery from this episode will be complete.' She held the cup to his mouth again and he swallowed. 'Oh and by the way Mr American who trusts no one, just for your edification,' and her old lady's voice had fun with the word, 'I am also, like your lady friend here, a healer. I am a doctor of medicine and have been since before you wore nappies.' She didn't say "So there" but it hung in the air.

Slightly unnerved Mulder drained the cup.

Mrs Mac produced a second cup of the medicine and he drank that too. He was surprised just how easily it went down. It left his mouth feeling clean and fresh again and after a few minutes he realised that the weak shaky feeling was leaving him too. Damn, this old woman knew a thing or two.

Mrs Mac got up to go and get dinner ready. 'Um, Mrs Mac,' Mulder said shyly. 'We really can't impose on you any further. We've got plenty of food with us.'

She skewered him with a look that would have knocked him flat if he hadn't already been lying down. 'It is not me you need to worry about imposing upon. Have you no thought for your lovely lady here?' She indicated a surprised Scully. 'She has just had a dreadful time driving that monstrous vehicle over roads I'm sure she hated. She has had to worry about you being ill and I suspect that takes more from her than she admits. Davy has also been sick and so she had to worry for a child she has promised to take care of. She is exhausted.' Scully's eyebrows had crawled under her hairline in surprise. 'Now, when she needs to be resting you are asking her to go down there, unpack everything and feed you all. Aren't you? Or,' she asked with disdain, 'were you planning on preparing a meal yourself?'

Mulder swallowed. He had never thought of any of that.

'Hmm?' she asked.

'Um no…well I… I didn't think.'

'No. Well you are a man. You wouldn't. Leave that sort of thinking to the women. That is what we do best.' She bestowed a beaming smile on Scully. 'Come with me dear and I'll fix you a drink. Something a little stronger than tea I think.' Scully nodded in agreement. 'We'll eat on the verandah. I will let you set the table.'

Stifling giggles that threatened to overwhelm her Scully followed her champion into the kitchen. Mulder watched them leave in total awe. Between them those two women ruled him and quite probably the whole world. But it sure was funny watching them side by side. Mrs Mac was exactly twice the size of Scully.

Bush Bay

Fri 17th

Mid morning

Mulder stroked slowly through the water, his sights set on the mooring buoy in the centre of the bay. The water was cool and buoyant. A warm sun shone on his back and his body was working perfectly, his arm not paining him at all as he used a gentle dog paddle to pull himself through the water. It was a far cry from his usual form but he experienced a surge of emotion that it took him a moment to identify, he was happy. He felt good.

Turning on his back he inhaled deeply, delighting in the feel of the air energising his body. He gazed up at the wide blue sky. Taking a deep breath he twisted and dove down, eyes open in the clear water aiming for the sandy bottom just below his feet. But the water was deeper than he thought and in spite of kicking and kicking he couldn't reach the bottom. Disorientated he kicked again trying to rise but unsure of his direction. Lungs straining he fought off panic and sighted on the sky far above. Fighting the urge to breathe and the sudden presence of floating corpses he forced himself to focus. With an adrenaline boosted burst of energy he surged upwards. Making the surface he floundered spluttering and gasping and nearly crying with relief.

Taking great lung fulls of air he tread water and looked around. He was very close to the buoy now and to his relief this definitely wasn't a dream. The water was clear and clean and nothing else shared the water with him. No corpses were in sight. Oh God, what the hell was he thinking swimming so far out? Turning on his back to rest a little he kicked slowly to the buoy. Unfortunately he was to get no relief there. He found to his distress that there was nothing to hang on to. The buoy was a large plastic bubble with an anchor chain attached to its bottom. It was round and smooth and had no handholds at all.

Bitterly disappointed he stared at it hoping to see a rope or anything he could hold on to for a rest. Where the chain attached was at least two foot under the water and just too low to be of any good to him. He felt for it anyway and the buoy sank under his weight.

He floated and took stock. The water that had seemed pleasantly cool was now feeling cold. He guessed he'd been swimming a good half an hour and he was tiring. The bay was still millpond smooth, that was a major bonus but the beach seemed ridiculously far away. He could actually see around the point and into the next bay from out here. Brad was fishing off the jetty although not catching anything because Davy was doing kamikaze dives off the end of it. There would be no fish for miles. Neither boy noticed his wave.

Still floating on his back he turned his head towards land and started kicking and sculling with his good hand. He had no choice. No one was coming to his rescue. He had to get back himself. Because of the sun shining down he shut his eyes and found that the gentle movements he made were nearly lulling him to sleep. His sore arm was starting to ache and he was getting awfully thirsty but this wasn't so bad.

Gentle waves slapped against him but one suddenly flooded his face making him choke. He sank. Fighting upwards again he realised he was now seriously tired. God how stupid. He'd been so ill, why the hell did he think he could swim so far? What was he trying to prove? Berating himself he took stock of his surroundings and his heart sank. He was only meters from the buoy. He'd been paddling for ages. With your stupid eyes shut, the voice in his head told him. He must have been going in a circle. He looked around in disbelief. Swimming with only one hand will make you go in circles, the voice said. For the first time he started to feel frightened.

Taking a deep breath he made himself as high in the water as he could. Then he shouted. 'Brad. Brad.' He was sure Brad turned to look. 'Brad.' He waved. 'Brad. Help!'

The boy stood for a moment looking his way. Come on Brad, see me. 'Brad! Here. BRAD!'

Brad saw him. 'Are you o - kay?' floated over the water.

'No! Help. Help. I need help.'

'Do you need some help?'

'Yes. Yes.' His frantic waving sent him under and he swallowed water. He coughed and choked. The seawater abraded his throat and made his nose run. Coughing made it seemed to take a lot more effort to stay afloat. When he looked back up he couldn't see Brad any more.

Brad and Davy came to the rescue in an aluminium dinghy. Brad rowed with great gusto but little technique. It took them a long time to cover the distance. They seemed excited by the adventure and Mulder tried not to cry with delight when he could finally grab hold of the boat. He was exhausted. Then he realised something. 'I can't climb in.' The sides were too high for him to even attempt to pull himself over them.

The boys tried to pull him on board but no one was strong enough. They all came precariously close to ending in the water. Then Mulder's bad arm got bashed and he yelled. Pain shot through him and only Davy's hold on his other arm saved him from going under.

'Just hang on to the boat.' Brad said desperately. 'We'll tow you back.' A convenient handle on the back at last gave Mulder a chance to rest. Pain, cold and fatigue combined to set him trembling. Brad was aware enough to realise that Mulder was in trouble and directed Davy to hang on to his hand and make sure he didn't let go. Employing a jerky paddle and slap motion and impeded by Mulder hanging off the stern he brought them back in. In this ignominious fashion the children rescued their friend.

None of them saw the dark face watching from the bush at the side of the bay.

When Scully came back from sharing cups of tea, local history and good sound advice with Mrs Mac she found Mulder sound asleep on a sun lounger in the shade of a big tree. She eyed him contemplatively. He was completely wrapped in two large towels. She wasn't surprised to see him asleep. She was surprised to see him sensibly in the shade. She didn't realise that he'd been there so long that the sunshine he'd started in, being desperate for warmth, had actually moved, leaving him as she saw him now.

She bent and laid a gentle kiss on his cheek. He didn't stir. His unbandaged arm lay at his side the dark sutures prominent against his pale skin. A small smile tugged at her mouth. Might as well make use of his somnolent state. Hurrying inside she collected the bag of medical supplies sent with them by Mr Sharples the plastic surgeon. Carefully she carried out and placed a folding card table by Mulder's lounger. She set out the suture removal kit and the sterile gloves. Then she went and washed her hands.

Quietly she decided on one more test. She kissed him full on the lips, breathing in his breath. He moaned softly but not a muscle twitched. Grinning she knelt beside him and started work.

She wasn't at all surprised that he was sound asleep now. After all he hadn't slept at all well. Neither had she if it came to that. She swabbed his arm and picked up the scalpel blade. Sharing a bed with someone who didn't sleep well might be something she would have to get use to. She had a feeling that they would be sharing a bed for the rest of their lives. She also had a feeling that last night had been unusual even for Mulder.

She picked up the first suture, pulled it away from his skin and cut it close to where it disappeared. She'd woken once to find him in the thrall of a nightmare. She pulled the thread back through the skin, opened the plastic tweezers and let it drop. She moved on to the next one. One down, only about ninety nine to go. The nightmare hadn't been unusual or even hard to deal with. She knew what to do with his nightmares. It was the second time she woke up that had her worried. She'd come awake to the realisation that she was hot, far too hot. She was hot and uncomfortable. Slowly she realised she was hot and uncomfortable because she was entirely wrapped in Mulder. He was curled tightly, as close to foetal as he could get. The reason he couldn't roll into a ball was because she was in the middle of his huddle.

At first as she'd woken Scully had found the contact quite nice. But then slowly she'd realised he wasn't asleep. Not only was he awake but he was quietly weeping. The back of her neck was quite wet. The moment she'd realised that, he'd noticed she was awake. He'd let her go and hurriedly turned away. He'd moved as far to the other side of the bed as it was possible to get and stayed there, his back an impenetrable wall.

Some of the sutures were getting harder to pull out. Mulder healed quickly and they could really have come out a few days ago. God damn Mulder. She cursed the sutures and the rest of him. What the hell is wrong with you? What is it that you're not telling me? Jesus Mulder, I know all of your secrets. If Frohike knows them, I know them. Don't you know that? As she had been doing for days she racked her brain for which particular secret he was so scared about her knowing about.

After staring at his back in the moonlight she'd finally dozed off again to awaken in daylight with Mulder so close she could feel his body heat and yet he wasn't touching her at all. He lay looking at her with barely the thickness of a credit card between them. He had his head on her pillow and was so close she couldn't actually see him properly. She'd blinked and just stayed there, too tired to play games. But when he didn't move she'd finally reached out and he'd jumped away again as if scalded. Fuck Mulder. That hurt. Even now she still smarted from that rejection.

She wasn't concentrating and she wasn't being very gentle. Tugging at threads embedded in flesh generally hurts and the sharp tugs were working through Mulder's exhaustion. He came awake with a roar and Scully jerked back to avoid his flailing arms.

'Easy,' she soothed. 'It's alright Mulder it's me.' But she didn't want to touch him and contaminate her gloves. She watched him as recognition sank in and his panic subsided. Moaning slightly he cradled his arm to his chest.

He looked at her with accusing eyes. 'Jesus Scully. What are you doing to me?'

'I'm removing your sutures. I've got them half out and you never felt a thing.'

'Oh.' Cautiously he looked at his arm. Half of the sutures were definitely gone. But there were still an awful lot left. The whole area tingled and itched.

'Don't touch! Put your arm back down at your side and let me get on with it.'

Reluctantly he complied, wincing when she re swabbed it and picked up her tweezers again. 'That was a low trick Scully. Ow! You were taking advantage of my body.'

'Oh I don't know. It seemed to work quite well. I might try it in other applications. Keep still.'

'Ow. That feels awful.'

'Look. These are coming out today or they'll grow into you and never come out. So keep bloody still or I'll sedate you.'

'Shit!' He squirmed. 'Ow. Scully!'

'Mulder!' It was the lioness' warning growl. 'Stay still. Look. Watch that bird up there. See the big one. Tell me if it's going to shit on my head.' She was delighted with his snort of laughter. 'I've never operated under a tree before.'

'It's hardly an operation is it Scully?'

'No Mulder it isn't. A trained monkey could do this.'

'So I should stop making a fuss. Right?'

It was Scully's turn to laugh. 'Right.'

'You're mad at me huh?'

'Yep! How did you guess.'

'I do try Scully?'

'What?' Her focus was back on the sutures. 'What do you try Mulder?'

'I try not to fuss. Ow! Christ Scully take it easy. You're drawing blood.'

'Look some of these are scaring over. I have to pull at them.' She gave a wicked grin. 'You were saying?'

'Alright.' Mulder desperately fixed his eyes on the fat wood pigeon above her head. Greeny grey in colour it was a handsome bird. It was larger than a common pigeon and handsomely marked with a waistcoat of blue over it's chest. It was also enormously fat. It was chugging down currant sized berries at the rate of one a second. If it kept that up it would have to shit, there'd be no room left in its insides. 'I'm trying not to be a baby. But every time I start to feel better, to feel all right, something seems to happen and I end up sick again. God Scully,' his voice was despairing. 'It's happening again. You're making my arm hurt and it feels so strange anyway it just makes me feel ill. I can't help it. I just sort of go all woozy and nauseous. I'm so tired of it.'

'Don't look,' she said a little more gently. 'I'll be finished soon and then it will be all over.'

'I felt good this morning Scully. Really good. Normal even.' Scully bit back a retort. 'Then my swim.' He sighed. 'It just wiped me out.' The large green leaves of the tree swam above his head. 'And yesterday. Getting carsick. That wasn't ordinary carsick. Even as a kid I never got that sick before. I never fainted. You're tired of me too. Aren't you?'

Whoa! Scully looked up sharply. 'Is that what's worrying you?' she asked cautiously.

'Well aren't you sick of looking after me? We've hardly been in an equal partnership for months now. I know you're a doctor and you like doctoring stuff, but…'

'Mulder. It's give and take. The looking after people bit. That's what a partnership is. If you need care I'll care for you and you'd do the same for me. We both know that. Circumstances seem to be weighted against you lately. God forbid they swing the other way, I'd like a bit of good health on both our parts for a while. But you'd look after me. You have looked after me. I'm much more annoyed that you won't tell me what's bothering you. You don't seem to trust me to be able to help.'

Mulder's face was full of pain as he turned to look at her. 'You can't help.'

'Mulder.'

He sucked in his lip and lowered his eyes. 'I will tell you. As soon as I can. Ow.' The cry of pain turned in to a muffled sob. 'I need to be strong. I can't…' His voice faltered. He hid his face with his other hand. His voice faded. 'I will. But I'm scared.'

Scully was watching him with horror, a hollow anxiety building in her stomach. What was this? Unconsciously she'd stopped work and started stroking his skin. 'What are you scared of?'

Mulder looked up at her again and gave her a watery smile. 'When I'm feeling better I'll explain. But not right now okay? I just can't do it now. I feel sick and I'm so tired.'

'Okay,' Scully agreed, frightened. He looked completely beaten. There was nothing else she could say.

Sutures finally removed Scully stretched and took a moment lying back on the grass and staring into the tree. 'Isn't that bird up there like the one we saw yesterday before you um…'

'Collapsed you mean?'

Scully grimaced. 'Yeah.' As if knowing they were talking about it the over stuffed native pigeon took off with a heavy "whoof whoof" noise. It was so fat it could barely get airborne and plummeted several feet before finally settling into the air.

'That was it all right,' Mulder said. 'I'll swear it was in league with Mrs Mac and that greeting thing she was doing. It just felt like, my, I don't know, maybe my soul…' He paused waiting for her to disagree but she stayed quiet. 'My soul had come out of me somehow and then the bird came and took it. And then there was nothing left in me.'

There was silence.

'When I woke up I was whole again. But Mrs Mac knew. I know she knew. It wasn't just sickness that made that happen.' The air was filled with the sound of cicadas, birds, the breeze through the trees. The small waves in the bay created a background layer to the other sounds. The sounds built into what was an overwhelming silence for city people. 'Scully. Aren't you going to say anything?'

'What do you want me to say Mulder. You know what I think.'

'I think Mrs Mac is some kind of witch. She knows things.'

'Of course she knows things. She's eighty eight years old and she trained as a doctor when she was forty and her children had grown up. She was one of only a handful of women in this country to do medicine at that time. She was the only Maori woman in her class. Before that she was trained in traditional healing by her grandmother.' Scully smiled. 'She says it was a much more rigorous training than the European training. Yeah I think she knows things.' Scully sat up and collected her equipment together. 'She has eighty eight years of experience. She knows lots about herbs and plants and she knows about healing in ways that western medicine doesn't understand. Some of them probably seem like magic to you. I'd like to think that when I'm nearly ninety I'll be as knowledgable as her.'

Mulder stared at her. 'Wow. Where's my sceptical partner?' He grinned at her. 'You really like her don't you?'

'Yes. Now do you want me to rebandage your arm or shall we leave it exposed for a while? Hurry up because I'd better do something about lunch.'

As it turned out, Scully needed to do very little about lunch. She'd just finished rebandaging Mulder's arm when the boys set up a tremendous commotion on the jetty. By the time they got out there Brad was just landing a good sized fish. He was doing a very uncharacteristic victory dance as the dinner plate sized fish flapped on the boards. 'It's a schnapper,' he crowed. 'I caught a schnapper.' The fish nearly made it back to the water but Davy grabbed it just in time, hanging on to the line but frightened to touch the wildly flailing fish with the spines on its fins.

Attracted by the ruckus Tom came out and it was he who calmly removed the hook. He was effusive with his praise. 'Well done Brad. That's a good six or eight pounds I reckon. What a beauty. Do you want to eat him or put him back?' He held the still flapping fish up to display.

'I want to eat him.' Brad suddenly sobered. 'Is that all right?'

'Of course.' Tom's face bore an enormous smile. 'He's well over size. He's your fish. You can eat him if you want.'

'Yes please.'

'Good.' Pulling a rock out of pocket that he must have brought out for the purpose he coshed the fish and it lay still. 'Pick up your things and bring them in. Then I'll show you how to gut him. Then,' he grinned, 'I'll show you the Maori way to cook him. I don't think I need to show you how to eat him do I?'

Following Tom and the boys down the jetty Scully whispered to Mulder. 'Tom's actually an Economics lecturer at Wellington University.' She nodded at the brown back and broad bare feet. 'You'd never guess would you? He's only here on holiday. His grand daughter usually lives with Mrs Mac as a sort of an apprentice. Mrs Mac is teaching her about the old ways.'

'Mulder grinned. 'Is there anything you don't know about the family?'

'Mrs Mac's other son in a high court judge.'

'Really. Not quite the noble savages they appear then.'

Scully hit him.

They were lying side by side on the sand breathing hard from a wrestling match when Tom and the boys came back with a gutted but otherwise whole fish. They sat up and watched as Tom instructed them on setting a fire in the brick barbecue. Then the boys photographed the fish before wrapping it in several layers of newspaper and soaking the package in the sea. The parcel was laid on the metal plate over the fire and Tom checked his watch. 'There you are. About twenty minutes I reckon. In the old days you'd have built your fire on the beach and put the fish in the embers. You'd have used woven mats to wrap it in. You know don't you that in the old days the people always offered the first of their catch back to the sea. They did it to appease Tangaroa the sea god.'

Brad suddenly looked stricken. 'Do you think I should have put it back?'

'No lad. If you'd done that you'd never have caught another one in time for lunch.' Tom smiled at him. 'Some of the old ways aren't so important. You have to learn the ones that are. The really important thing is never to take more than you need to eat. Taking too much, just for sport, that's what really upsets things.' He got up. 'Keep feeding wood in the fire so it stays just like that. When the paper's dried out your fish will be cooked.'

'Tom,' Scully stopped him leaving. 'I know your mother was going to have a lie down. Why don't you join us for lunch? Then you can show us the correct way to eat the fish too.'

Tom's mouth split into a wide white smile. 'Thank you,' he said. 'That will be nice.' He looked up. 'The sun's over the yard arm, close enough. Drink anyone?'

They ate at the picnic table on the terrace in front of the cottage. The fish when unwrapped from its now charred packaging was steamed to perfection. The skin adhered to the newspaper and allowed easy access to the succulent insides. They forked out pieces of flesh and ate them on slices of bread and butter they held in their hands. It was the best fish they had ever tasted. The men washed it down with beer. The boys had soda and Scully had a cider that Tom had provided. It was the perfect meal.

Replete and dozy Mulder leaned back in his deck chair. 'Tom. Isn't there supposed to be a ghost here? Will you tell us about it?'

Tom saw Scully roll her eyes. 'You got a thing about ghosts have you?'

'He does,' Scully said. 'But tell him anyway. He's dying to know.'

'Yeah tell us Tom,' Brad said. 'Please. It's a good story.'

Tom grinned and folded his hands behind his head. 'Okay. Just don't blame me if you start seeing movement in the shadows. I've never seen him but my mother swears he's about at the moment. She says he's waiting for something to happen. She's seen him of course.' He settled in to his story. 'He's my ancestor you know. His name is Rangitu Tangaroa.'

'Tangaroa? Like the sea god,' Brad asked.

Tom beamed. 'Very good. He was named for the bay he was born in. It's several miles that way.' He waved idly down the sound. He wasn't born of the people here. How he came to be a chief of the Ngati Whakaru, that's our people, that is part of Rangitu's story.

A long long time ago, back in the days when my grandfather's grandfather was still to be thought of, my people lived in a village on that headland over there. It was a prosperous village. The people lived well nourished by Tangaroa,' he paused.

'The sea god,' Davy shouted.

Tom nodded and smiled at him. 'Nourished by Tangaroa and Papatuinuku?' He waited expectantly.

Brad and Davy exchanged looks 'The earth mother,' Brad muttered. 'The earth!'

'That's right. The people fished and gathered shellfish from the sea. They grew kumura and other crops in the fertile earth of this bay. It was a good life and the people were happy. All except for Kupe the chief of the Ngati Whakaru, for he was having trouble with his wives.' Tom winked at Mulder. He was a natural story teller. 'None of his many wives was able to give him a son. And a son was needed to carry on his lineage and lead his people. He had many beautiful daughters but no son.

'But he was a young man and not yet too concerned. There were many other things to concern a chief and one of them was the need to avenge the death of his father at the hands of a raiding southern tribe. An expedition was planned. The warriors were chosen and their deadly skills were honed to the same perfection as their weapons. The women who must travel with them to see to their needs were also prepared. Only the old and the mothers with the very young would remain. This would be an expedition the people were to talk about for many years. The Ngati Whakaru would be avenged and their enemies not just crushed but their very name would be humiliated. The Ngati Whakaru would steal their power and mana. The Nga Rua were the keepers of "Pounamu", the greatest mere, the greatest greenstone war club ever crafted.' Tom's hand demonstrated the deadly effect of the club. 'The mere Pounamu had killed so many high chiefs it held mana, power of its own. Whoever owned Pounamu would be the greatest chief in the land. Pounamu had killed his father in the hands of the chief of the Nga Rua. Kupe was determined that by the end of the summer the mere would be his.

'The plans were set.' Tom looked around to check his audience were following the story.

'How do you know this,' Davy suddenly asked.

The spell was broken. Tom sighed. Scully smothered a grin.

'I thought you said this was before your grandfather's grandfather was thought of. The Maoris didn't know how to write so how do you know?' Davy was enjoying this. Usually he missed lots of details when people were speaking, but here where there was no background noise and he could watch the speaker closely he could follow everything.

Tom smiled patiently. 'That's a good question lad. I know in the same way that you now know these things. Somebody told me the story. Now sit still and listen. When I've finished you too will know. Then you can pass this story on, for that is the way of stories. Now, where was I?'

Skilfully Tom drew them back into his story of the past. He took them with his ancestors as they planned a great subterfuge and waged a mighty battle against their enemies. A battle in which Kupe was successful in killing the killer of his father and taking the powerful war club Ponamu as his own.

'The surviving warriors of the Nga Rua were rounded up and imprisoned along with the women and young children. They were the spoils of war and they would be taken back as slaves. Once that was done and the wounded were tended to, then Kupe ordered the chief's body to be prepared and roasted. A great feast was held and Kupe ate his enemy's heart as it held great mana. The rest of the body was shared among his warriors and a young succulent child fed the women.'

If Tom thought he could gross his audience out he was mistaken. Davy and Brad were modern children brought up on Harry Potter and Goosebumps. They took it in the vein of all horror stories. And Mulder and Scully had seen much worse horrors than Tom or his ancestors could ever have imagined.

Giving up on that he continued. 'Picture the journey home. The tribe were extremely happy. Ponamu was now Kupe's, the tribe was invincible. They had many fit strong slaves to use and to trade. But the trip home was not a good one for all of the party. Two young women were near the end of their pregnancies and for them the trip was especially difficult. One was a young wife of Kupe's, the other a woman of the Nga Rua, the first wife of the now dead chief.

The last night before arriving home, both of these women laboured to give birth. The Nga Rua woman was delivered first, of two children, a boy and a girl. Unfortunately Kupe's wife was to loose her child, a still born son. Rather than let her and her powerful husband know of the misfortune and the bad omen, her serving woman took the male baby from the slave woman and swapped it for the dead child.

'There was huge rejoicing. Kupe had his son. The serving woman and the slave were the only ones who knew the truth. The Ngati Whakaru arrived home in triumph. The slave woman, weak and ill from imprisonment, grief, and the difficult birth was left on the side of the trail to die. After all what use was a weak woman and a sickly girl child.' Tom shrugged helplessly as if to say, "I'm only telling the story as it was told to me."

'Kupe named his son Rangitu Tangaroa after the place of his birth and if he suspected that the child was not his own he never said.

'Years passed. Kupe died young of a wasting sickness and so it came about that Rangitu gained both the leadership and the war club Ponamu at a young age. Still not mated, the elders of the tribe arranged for many women to be paraded past their chief in an attempt to gain his interest but none of them appealed to him.'

Tom stopped suddenly to pop open another beer. 'How explicit shall we get here?' he asked.

Scully looked at the rapt looks on the boy's faces. 'Keep it light,' she murmured. 'Family show.'

'Right. Okay. He didn't fancy any of the right sort of girls. The elders were starting to worry.

'One day visitors came to the bay. They were a party of Te Aroha, traders from the west coast. They had greenstone, the jade from the west coast rivers. Some of it was raw, some already crafted into weapons and tools. They wanted to trade for kumara tubers, baskets and the canoes that the Ngati Whakaru made so well. One of the women in the group caught Rangitu's eye and he fell deeply in love. Her name was Ina. He told his mother that he had found the other half of his soul. She was beautiful. He loved Ina and he must have her.

Tom ignored the looks Mulder was giving Scully. 'This was a problem.' Now Scully was making them back. 'Rangitu could not marry Ina because she was a slave woman and she was already married to one of the traders.'

Mulder and Scully's hands found each other unerringly. Their eyes were locked on each other. Gamely Tom continued his story. 'But Ina felt as strongly as the young chief. She had felt something about him that was unique. They would risk everything to be together.' Good grief, these two were about to self combust. 'The night before the Te Aroha left they got a chance to be alone and made their plans.

'The traders left and Ina went too, but on the third night she slipped away and met up with Rangitu who had followed them in his canoe. Rangitu had brought with him the body of a woman who had recently died. They placed it near the Te Aroha camp and set a fire, that way her husband would think she was dead and not come looking for her.

'And it worked. They returned to Rangitu's home and were married. They lived very happily.' Tom leered at Mulder who was stroking Scully's hand. 'For a time.

'Ina sent for her mother who was a slave in the Te Aroha and it was when she arrived that the blow fell. For the old woman took one look at her daughter's new husband and recognised him instantly.'

Tom left a delicious pause. 'She had never known this man, but she had known his father intimately and he was the living image of that man. He was her son. She was the woman who had given birth to twins on the trip to capture Ponamu. She was his mother and Ina was his twin.

Tom's eyes swept his audience. They all stared back rapt. 'Rangitu's great love,' he whispered. 'It could not be. The completeness he felt. It was that of twins torn apart. He had broken one of his people's most sacred rules and disaster must come upon them all.

'Even as he thought these things the village was attacked without warning. Ina's real husband, having discovered she was alive had followed her mother. He wanted her back for he loved her too. Mostly he wanted utu. He wanted revenge on the one who had taken her.

'Caught without warning there was pandemonium. Confused and heart broken Rangitu did not have the heart to lead his people. He was their chief and yet there were not actually his people. He had broken the sacred laws and slept with his sister. And he had loved a woman he could not have. Leaderless our people were overrun and murdered in the fields. The stockades were fired and those who had made it safely into the pa were burnt as the huts caught fire.

'Ina's husband caught Rangitu but not before he had led her to a hiding place in the cliffs up there.' Tom pointed to the great volcanic cliffs behind them. 'She hid there for four days and nights and when she dared come down she found all of the village destroyed. The traders were gone and there were row upon row of bodies rotting in the sun. One of them was Rangitu and one was her mother and in death they held each other in an embrace that showed her that they had loved each other as mother and son should.

'When she and the remaining villagers moved the bodies for burial she found, under the body of Rangitu, the mere Ponamu with a mighty crack running through it. It was still whole but its mana had left it. Even so she passed it to her son and he to his. And with the mere passes the story.' Tom looked up. His voice changed from story teller to ordinary man. 'My mother has it now. It is kept in a special treasure box in the living room. You can see it if you ask.'

'But the ghost?' asked Davy. 'What about the ghost.'

'Ahh, of course, the ghost. The ghost is Rangitu. He stays here guarding his people. It is said that never again will he let his people be crept up on unawares. He is keeping us safe.' Tom nodded sagely, 'But they also say that he is looking for utu and he will take his revenge on those who forced him to leave his sister and killed his people. If people with Te Aroha blood try to live here, something bad always happens and they leave.' He grinned. 'Even these days. A few years ago a guy tried to start a backpackers hostel in the next bay and all sorts of things went wrong. His boat kept breaking down, the roof blew off in a storm. His water tank leaked and ran dry. All sorts of things. In the end he left. It turned out that his grandmother was Te Aroha.

'That's silly,' Brad said.

'Maybe it is,' Tom said. 'Maybe it isn't. I don't know. May be it's just a story.' He drained his beer. 'I'd better go and check on Mum. She's usually fairly grumpy after her nap.'

'Tom?' Davy piped up. 'I thought you said he was your ancestor. How could he be if he died?'

'I'm too old for this,' Tom muttered. He looked pointedly at Mulder and Scully. 'I'll leave that one for you. Thanks for sharing your fish Brad. It was great. Let me know if you want the boat again.' He trotted away.

Mulder looked out over the quiet bay. A far cry now from the scene Tom had painted of death and mayhem. People running screaming in panic, the palisades of the village on the headland alight. Children crying frightened, trying to hide, the wounded trying to drag themselves away, the terrible wounds gaping. The beach a savage melee of warriors, the water running thick with blood.

'Mulder.' Louder. 'Mulder.'

'Huh?' He shook his head and his vision returned to the present. Brad and Davy were whooping around on the beach.

'Let go of my hand. I need to clear away the dishes.'

'Oh sorry.' Carefully he uncurled his fingers that held Scully's in a tight grip. She was watching him closely.

'I'm going to clear up. Why don't you go and lie down for a bit? You look like you need to get out of the sun.'

'No.' He shook himself. 'I'm okay. I think I might go for a walk in the bush. See where that track goes.'

Scully looked at him, her head sideways, her hair hanging across her face. 'Uh huh.' She wrapped the fish remains in the paper it was cooked in.

'Scully, I'll do that.' Mulder started piling up the plates. It was awkward with one hand but he was reminded of Mrs Mac's admonishment about making Scully do all the work.

'Mulder don't do that,' Scully said with alarm as the pile tilted. 'We haven't got enough if you break those. They're not ours and it's a long way to the nearest shop. You're going ghost hunting aren't you?'

'I'm going for a walk.'

'What makes you think a native ghost is going to appear to you, an American? In the daylight.' Sighing Scully picked up the plates and took them inside.

A little confused Mulder picked up the butter and followed her. It was a little bit of a help. 'Scully. You wound me.'

Scully put the dishes in the sink and turned around. 'Mulder. Do me a favour.'

'What?'

She picked up his Knicks cap off the sideboard and stuck it on his head. 'Hat,' she said. 'Sunscreen.' She passed him the bottle. 'And stay on the track. That track loops back around to the road. It's about a half hour walk. If you're not back in an hour you're in trouble. Okay?' She readjusted the sling around his neck and gave him a kiss on the nose. 'When you come back I want you to have a rest.'

'I slept half the bloody morning.'

'I know and it did you good.' She turned him around and patted him on the butt before pushing him out the door. 'Now go. Say hello to Rangi…whatsit for me.'

It was cool in the bush, cool and slightly damp. The air felt different and was scented slightly with wet wood and a long forgotten sensation of freshly dug gardens. The track curved gently up hill, a deep green tunnel lush with ferns and bright leafed plants. After only a few hundred yards the bay and the buildings were completely invisible, the only indication of their closeness the sound of the boys voices on the breeze. They sounded impossibly far away.

The forest had its own sounds. The most predominant one seemed to be the sound of running water, heard long before he sighted the little stream. Tumbling down a rocky bed was a clear watercourse with a plank balanced across it to keep the walker's feet dry. Two little fantails followed him, flitting from forward to back after the insects he disturbed as he walked. They were very pretty little birds but moved so constantly and unpredictably that it was hard to actually see them.

Looking uphill as he crossed the stream Mulder could just make out a fainter track and something that looked out of place. After studying the thing he realised he was seeing a large grey concrete tank that was nearly hidden by foliage. For no good reason he took the second track and followed it to the base of the tank.

It was obvious that this was the storage point for the water for the bay and that the water came from the stream. He wondered if Scully knew this and decided that she didn't. She'd have been boiling their water if she knew. Bending he scooped a mouthful of water from the stream and enjoyed its fresh coolness. The water was clean, pure and perfectly natural. He wouldn't tell her.

An old metal ladder leaned against the tank and awkwardly he climbed it and sat on the tank's top. From this vantage he could see through the tops of the trees to the roof tops of the houses and the bay. It was a nice calm place and he decided to stay a while. For the first time in a long time he was completely alone. When he didn't move and stir up bugs even the fantails left. Actually as far as numbers of people per square mile he was more alone than he'd ever been in his life. He lay back and watched the breeze stirring the leaves.

Mulder had a lot on his mind. He desperately wanted to tell Scully his secret but still seriously doubted the wisdom of doing so. They said that confession was good for the soul and he could see why you would want to spill your guts; but… the consequences could be devastating.

He also had his future to figure out. He didn't want to go back to field work he realised. Physically he knew that he couldn't but for the first time he could remember he actually didn't want to. He really didn't. He realised that he hadn't for quite some time. He couldn't do any more for Samantha. He knew that now. He wasn't sure how or when he had come to that realisation but he had. So what could he do? And would he be doing it with or without Scully. And here his thoughts all went around again.

Sighing he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Better not go to sleep here or she'd have a search party out and his butt would be toast. He spotted movement down by the main trail. Damn, she'd sent Tom out to look for him already. What the hell time was it anyway? His watch had been removed from his wrist on the plane and was the only thing that had never turned up again.

'Hey,' he called out and clambered laboriously down the ladder. He could see a body shape through the trees but couldn't quite make out the man. It had to be Tom though; it was too big to be anyone else.

He made his way cautiously down the rough track and wondered why the other man didn't answer him. 'Tom,' he called. 'Is that you?' Then he skidded down the last few feet and landed on his ass in the mud.

He sat on his bum and stared up at the most astonishing sight. It wasn't Tom. At least not unless he'd had a full facial tattoo since lunch time.

The man in front of Mulder was feral. He looked like the warriors he'd seen on the stage the other night only more so. His skin was dark brown. His hair pulled into a tight top knot was glossy black. His tattoo swirled in pagan patterns around his cheeks and nose and across his forehead and he had a bone hanging from a large hole in his right ear. There were bones too in his hair. His chest was bare and shiny brown, his body muscular, fit and strong. At his waist he wore a thong from which hung a loin cloth and several implements or tools. His legs and feet were bare.

This apparition stood only two feet away, only there was nothing ghostly about it. In its hand it held a solid translucent green club, that wasn't just a club. It had edges that were sharpened to a knife edge. Mulder could see this because the blade was held horizontally about six inches in front of his eyes.

Mulder knew instinctively that there was nothing theatrical about this warrior. This was not an extra in a costume drama. This man was the real thing. 'Uh…' he started.

'He!!'

Mulder stifled a scream as the warrior lunged then drew back at the last near fatal second. The club would have gone horizontally through his left temple. As the warrior stepped back he could see the twist in the man's wrist that was the follow through to the move. The top of his skull would have lifted as easy as breaking the top off a boiled egg.

'O Weh!' The warrior postured, his hands on hips, eyes opened wide so that the whites glowed around the brown iris. His tongue was out, flat and grotesque. 'He!' His eyes flicked and rolled. Mulder stayed frozen to the spot. 'He. He. He.' The man's head moved and bobbed and Mulder realised he was being motioned to stand. Cautiously he got to his feet his eyes searching for the best route of escape.

'O weh he.' The sound was contemptous and the warrior came closer, moving in a high stepping tiptoe on the balls of his feet. His tongue flicked in and out as if he were tasting the white man's scent. He circled Mulder completely and Mulder forced himself to hold his ground. The warrior came back to the front and his gaze travelled slowly up from Mulder's shoes until he got to his eyes. Mulder was feeling more confident now. The posturing was a challenge. He didn't think he would be harmed. Although heavier by nearly twice the weight the warrior was shorter than the American by a head. Mulder held himself tall forcing the other man to look up to meet his eye. He stared into the totally alien brown eyes for several heart beats as the stranger tried to bore into his soul.

With an expulsion of breath the warrior stepped back. Still holding the club he folded his arms and leaned back on one foot as though waiting for something. For a moment he looked for all the world like an old high school teacher of Mulder's leaning on the blackboard waiting for someone to confess to flicking rubbers at the girls. Then he grunted and that image was gone.

The one that remained looked impatient. 'Uh,' Mulder said helplessly. 'Are you Rangitu?'

The warrior wrinkled his brow. The tattoo made his whole face move in the dim light. He made a noise of disgust and stepped off the track. He moved a few feet and looked at Mulder over his shoulder. Suddenly the sun went behind a cloud and the light under the trees changed. Mulder was sure he'd never moved his eyes but where he was looking there was only trees. 'Wait,' he called. He turned a full circle startling at the noises of the forest. 'What do you want? Do you want to tell me something?' The warrior was gone.

A whoofing noise made him look up to see one of the large pigeons staggering through the tree tops. Splat! He jumped back. But not quick enough to avoid a large stream of white ejected from the ass of the bird.

'Oh great. Fucking great.' He sat down in a hurry as the shock of being challenged by a ghost caught up with him and his legs wobbled and gave out. 'I'm sitting in the mud and I've been shat on by that bastard bird. Fuck!' He stared at the white goo on his right forearm. 'And I've seen the ghost. Fuck.' But there was nothing ghostly about that he told himself. That club thing could have bloody killed me. 'Shit. What is it with me?' Carefully he got back up and tested his legs. It no longer seemed so calm and appealing under the trees. He grabbed at a big leaf and found that he couldn't hold it to wipe the muck off. Angrily he swiped his arm against a tree trunk scratching himself in the process. 'What am I? A lightening rod for the fucking paranormal? Huh. Jesus Christ God, I'm on vacation. Give me a break.'

Mrs Mac was sitting in her rocking chair with her feet in the oven of her Aga stove when the agitated tall American burst through her back door. One of the drawbacks of old age she had found was the slowing of her circulation and the way that no matter how bright the day was her feet always felt cold. She barely looked up from her intricate crochet work just motioned over her shoulder. 'It's on the table. I got it out. I knew you'd be coming to see it soon.'

Mulder moved to stand at the table and sighing she withdrew her feet and stood to slide the kettle back onto the hot plate. She turned to see how he would treat the treasure.

On the table was a very old wooden box. Black with age it was about the size and shape of a loaf of bread. The box was intricately carved, a work of art and a treasure in its own right. Carefully, reverently Mulder reached out and touched the ancient wood. At a nod from Mrs Mac he lifted the lid and laid it carefully down on the table top. He was gazing in awe at the contents. Nestled in a bed of straw was "Pounamu", the weapon. Mrs Mac nodded again and he lifted it out. It was not really a club. It was closer in appearance to a fat table tennis bat, longer than it was wide and about two inches thick through the middle. Its edges, in spite of time remained razor sharp. Carved entirely from one solid piece of green jade it was very heavy.

She watched the man hold it up to the light. The edges glowed a translucent green like a thick glass. A crack running through the centre was very pronounced with the light behind it. The club was very smooth as if it had been cast in one piece. It didn't seem possible that it could have been made with the limited tools available in this country several hundred years ago.

'It's warm,' he said quietly.

'Yes,' she agreed.

He balanced it in his hand and she noticed the angle he held it. He held it not as a hitting weapon, but horizontally, the correct way. He held it in the way of someone who knew how to use it to free an enemy's soul. A modern white American held a precious relic of her stone age ancestors and he held it right. He was the one and if she'd had any doubts they were gone now.

He turned it in his hand. 'It's not right. There's something different. I don't know?'

'It would have had cord wound around the handle, for grip. And a thong to hang it on the wrist. There would have been decorations on that.'

He put it down on the table so he could look at it. He looked at her and his eyes were very dark. 'That was it.'

She nodded.

'How old is it?'

'It is made of stone so there is no way of telling. The box has been dated as three hundred years old. According to the stories it happened twelve generations ago.'

He stroked the ancient stone with his finger tips.

She took a chance. 'Did he say anything to you?'

Mulder shook his head and pulled out a chair. He was not surprised by her question. He looked tired and ill again. 'I think he was checking me out. I don't think he thought much of what he saw.'

The kettle boiled and Mrs Mac poured water into a mug already waiting on the bench. Mulder played with the mere, turning it, stroking it, feeling its power. After a minute she pulled a small muslin bag from the cup and set it in front of him. 'Drink this,' she said kindly. 'It will help.'

Her guest looked up. 'What does he want?'

'He has a warning, for you. I don't know what. That too is for you.' She pulled out the chair beside him. 'Do you know, the early European settlers were convinced that the Maori were the lost tribe of Israel. Maybe we are kin.' She shrugged. 'Or maybe not.'

He cupped his hands around the mug as if he too was cold on this warm day. He sipped the tea without comment. Mrs Mac pulled her chair close beside him and put her arm around him, pulling him against her large chest. He came easily without protest and she could feel the deep exhaustion that ran through him, body and soul. 'It will be over soon,' she told him. 'Whatever it is, it will be over soon.'

'Do I survive it though?'

'What?' She sat up startled. 'Of course you do. What ever gave you the idea that you would not?'

'I don't know. I'm so tired. I'm scared.'

'You will do what you have to do,' she said firmly. 'And you will survive. You have much yet to achieve.'

He relaxed more fully against her. 'Why me?' he asked quietly.

'I don't know.' She gave an old lady's chuckle. 'It must be fate.'

Scully was lying on the sofa engrossed in a book when Mulder wandered back into the cottage. 'Hey,' she said quietly. She motioned towards the table where the laptop sat open. 'You might want to take a look at that. Rod's had another note.'

'Shit,' Mulder said wearily. 'What's this one say?' He slid into a seat and turned the computer around so he could see the screen. Scully had left the email open and he scrolled quickly through the greetings. There it was.

LIGHTENING CAN STRIKE TWICE IN THE SAME PLACE

'What the fuck does that mean?'

Scully looked up quickly. There was a high pitched note in his voice that sounded dangerously close to hysteria. 'Mulder. Are you okay?'

He muttered something under his breath and swiped his arm across his eyes. 'Yeah. I'm just tired I guess. I hoped we might have scared this guy off.'

'I told you to take a rest.'

'Well I guess we know now that whatever his agenda is it's more important to him than not getting caught.'

'How do you figure that?' Sitting up she held out her arm and continued quickly before he could answer. 'Mulder. Come here.'

Bringing the laptop he came and sat beside her. Firmly she took it off him and put it on the floor. He opened his mouth to argue but she lay back down and pulled him down on top of her. The sofa was small and they didn't fit well. Mulder giggled slightly and curled himself around her like a serpent. Then he went limp, his weight heavy on her legs and chest, his nose nuzzled into her armpit. She sighed and found her hand perfectly placed to stroke his hair.

'Let Rod worry about what the note means. Okay?'

'Can't,' he mumbled from the depths. 'My mind doesn't shut off like that. You know that.'

'I know. But can't you try?'

He squirmed to try and get more comfortable. 'What other events are coming up? What does Rod think it means? Have kids gone missing at Christmas before?'

Scully sighed but gave in to the inevitable. 'The perp seems to have given up on the innocence theme.'

'Yeah. I'm not sure that isn't just because he couldn't think of another cliché with the word innocence in it.'

They talked round and around the topic until they got too hot and cramped. Then they got up and went for a gentle swim. Mulder stayed in the shallows. He never told Scully about seeing the ghost. He wasn't sure why not.

Bush Bay

Sat 18th Dec

Morning

Scully woke slowly to the realisation that once again Mulder had wrapped her in his body. As she had several times in the last few days she was aware that she could feel more of him than just his warm heavy weight holding her tight. As well as arms and legs there was the hot hard lump that pressed against her buttocks. Pressing, moving gently and rhythmically against her the teasing touch was driving her wild. She would have given anything to push back and increase the contact. But she didn't. She was learning now.

In spite of the warmth flooding her groin and the near ache of her breasts she carefully kept her breathing level and her body limp. She knew that at the first sign she was awake Mulder would jump away from her. He had done so the last few mornings and she didn't know why. Surely, surely he wanted her. He wouldn't be doing this if he didn't. God she wanted him. But whatever was worrying him was stopping him from taking this contact farther and she was sick of it. Jesus Christ. She'd been living in a state of repressed sexual tension for years now. But these last few days sharing a bed were driving her to the brink. Her arousal was so extreme it was nearly painful.

Carefully she lay still and thought things through. It wasn't easy. What the fuck was Mulder doing? He wasn't teasing her. He couldn't be because he thought she was asleep. So what was this? He gave a long stroke right up the cleft of her buttocks that nearly drove her to scream. His breath was coming in little puffs against the back of her neck. Supreme will power kept her limp and quiet. God, if he was going to stop when she awoke he was only torturing himself.

This had to stop. This sexual tension between them had to be resolved. Christ any other couple would have given in years ago and be fucking like bunnies right now. But she and Mulder couldn't do anything easily and they'd built this sex thing into such a big deal they didn't seem to be able to get past it.

So come on Dana. Let's just do it. Then it will be over with and you can stop worrying about it. For some reason he's scared. You're not. So it's up to you. Before any doubts could break free she made her move.

Rolling over quickly she grabbed at him before he could escape. Her top hand came around and clamped firmly on his butt. Her other hand, the one that was between their bodies reached easily and grabbed the most natural thing there was there to hang on to, his cock.

Mulder squealed. His body jerked and she saw his eyes dilate in shock. Cutting off any protest she moved in and caught his mouth in a kiss. Her hand moved up and down his shaft having a good feel through the soft cotton of his boxers. It was soo nice. So this was what he'd been hiding.

She could feel the tension in him, his body rigid as she fumbled her hand under the elastic and finally felt him against her flesh. He was full and tight and as smooth as silk. She greedily sucked his tongue into her mouth as she explored his length and ran her hand over his balls. Oh god yes! Yes please god. Yes.

She could feel his hips judder as her other hand started to wander. He was still trying to get away, but she had him at a disadvantage. Lying on his side his good arm was trapped and he had no leverage. He was trying to resist but his body had other ideas as his hips tried to jerk into her hand. She made a fist and ran it up and down his length, starting to pick up a rhythm as the fight went out of him.

He tore his mouth away. 'God Scully,' he panted. 'Ooo. Oww. Scully don't.'

'I love you,' she said.

'Love… Love you too. Please Scully,' his look was panicked. 'Stop. I'll come.'

She got the idea and there was no way he was getting away with that. Not this time anyway. She hauled his pants down far enough that she could get her foot up to snag them off and them repeated a similar procedure to loose hers. Crossing her arms she whipped her tee shirt over her head and that was it. That was enough foreplay. She wanted him, in her. Now!

Wrapping him in her arms she flipped them so that she was on her back. With only one arm he couldn't lift himself and lay flesh to delicious flesh against her chest. She settled him between her legs, her hips lifting greedily to meet that glorious penis that was nearly there, so close to where she wanted it. Mulder's hips were seeking too and before she could make any move to guide him he was there and one thrust then two and he filled her completely.

'ARRRGGHH.'

'CHRIST.'

They froze, staring at each other in shock. It felt unbelievably good. Then Mulder buried his head in her neck, sucking and chewing as their bodies took over, rutting in an animal frenzy. Hips crashing they drowned in sensation until very quickly the sun went nova and time stood still.

Scully came slowly back to earth, body tingling with aftershocks. Wow! That had to be the most profound sexual experience she had ever had in her life. Mulder was sprawled on top of her totally limp. Only his ragged breathing indicated that he was alive. She tightened her arms around him and kissed his shoulder, the part of him that was closest to her mouth. He mumbled and shifted slightly as his breathing settled. She smoothed her hands down his back and through his hair. She felt overwhelmed with love.

Then he raised his head and looked her in the eyes. At first she couldn't read the expression there. His eyes seemed huge, dark with intense emotion. Then he spoke and she knew what that emotion was. The words spat out. 'I hope you don't come to regret doing that Scully.' His voice was clipped and strained. He was angry. And he was terribly sad.

'What? Why?' She was completely nonplussed.

He slid sideways off her and lay on his back, arm over his face.

'What?' Scully sat up to look down on him. She was rapidly getting angry herself. 'What makes you think I would ever regret making love to you?'

She didn't give him a chance to answer.

'What possible reason could there be. I mean, I love you. You love me. I know you don't have any nasty diseases and we both know that I can't get pregnant. So what could it possibly be? Tell me Mulder. Tell me now.'

'I love you Scully.' The words seemed to be wrenched from his soul. His arm slowly came off his face and he stared up at her. 'But I have something I have to tell you and when I have I fully expect that you are never going to want to see or hear from me ever again.'

'Oh for Christ Sake!' Scully exploded. 'I am sick of this deep dark secret of yours. Just tell me. What the hell could be so bad? You're a good man and I love you.' She made a frantic effort to restrain her temper and lay back down beside him. She put her hand on his arm. 'Whatever this is, tell me. Tell me now. Please? Get it over with and let me decide how I feel. Give me a chance.'

He swallowed and shook his head. 'No. Not here.'

'Yes now. Here. Where it's warm and safe.' She moved to take him in her arms.

'No.' He sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. 'I've got used to the idea that you'll reject me. But I can't handle that here. Not now. I don't want you to reject me in our bed. Not after what we've just done.' His eyes filled with tears. 'I couldn't stand that.'

Scully gaped at him. She was speechless.

'Have a shower Scully,' he said kindly. He fumbled for his pants. 'Get dressed. We'll talk after that.'

As Mulder sat at the table waiting for Scully the boys roared through the kitchen looking for food. He was mortified at the thought that Brad at least must have heard what they were doing earlier. If he did he made no sign. They made an enormous mess and drank an enormous amount of milk then headed out the door taking half a loaf of bread to use to catch bait. In their wake Mulder sat and listened to his erratic heart beat. His palms were sweating and he was as frightened as he could ever remember being in his life.

Scully came through from the bathroom towelling her hair. She was wearing the sea coloured shirt with a bright sarong around her waist. He found his breath catch at her pink fresh scrubbed beauty. He couldn't believe he'd just made love to such a gorgeous creature. She dropped the towel and stood hands on hips, staring at him.

'What are you thinking?' he asked nervously.

She snorted and moved behind the breakfast bar, automatically cleaning up for the boys. 'I'm thinking, "Trust you to make such a drama over the best sex I've ever had in my life."'

'Oh. Ah. Thank you. I think.'

She poured herself a plate of cornflakes.

'Sometimes I can last a bit longer than thirty seconds.'

She ignored that. 'Have you eaten.'

He shook his head.

'Do you want some toast?'

'No thanks.'

'You have to eat something.' Her face was soft with compassion. 'Shall I make you an egg nog.'

'No. Please. I couldn't. I can't eat. Just leave it. Okay?'

'All right.' She sat down opposite him. She was giving him the "I'm seriously concerned for your health" look. She reached out for his hand but he pulled back. He didn't want to be touched.

'Okay then,' she said irritated. 'Get on with it.'

But he found he couldn't. He opened his mouth and no sounds came out. With an exasperated sigh Scully looked down and concentrated on her breakfast instead. That helped. It was easier without her blue eyes focused on him, full of love and compassion. 'There are several things I've never told you about,' he said quietly.

'Uh huh,' Scully said not looking up.

'I… I don't know where to start. Which one is worse.'

The silence dragged out and he tried several times to start one of his stories.

Scully got to the bottom of her bowl and looked up. 'Is this anything to do with you having been married?' she asked quietly.

'What? Yeah.' He was stunned. 'How…?'

She smirked slightly. 'Don't forget the "I" in FBI. You're not the only trained investigator you know.'

'Then you know… That I didn't…'

'Get divorced until last year. Yes I know that too.'

'It's a bit of a moot point now though isn't it?'

'That depends a little on your point of view doesn't it?'

'You're not mad?' He was breathing a little easier now because she obviously wasn't upset.

'Yes, I'm a little annoyed at you. Hurt a little that you didn't tell me about it, but no, I'm not mad. What other little secrets do you think you had better share?'

'Don't joke.'

'I'm sorry.'

They sat quietly for a moment. Mulder was steeling himself when Scully spoke. 'Isn't there something else you should be sharing with me? After all it does involve me too doesn't it?'

He stared at her for a moment in panic. God what did she know? He nearly stammered. 'Are you talking about the ova?'

'Uh huh. When were you planning on telling me about that?'

'How do you know about that?'

'Frohike told me,' she said, her voice hard. 'He felt I had a right to know.' She glared at him. 'I tend to agree Mulder. Why did you never tell me?'

'It just never… I mean Scully… Oh god. It was never the right time.'

'It was never the wrong time either. But the longer you left it, the worse it got. Do you realise that in not telling me those embryos may well have deteriorated with time? By the time you got around to telling me it may have been too late.'

'Embryos? You mean…?'

'Yes Mulder. I know about that too?'

'Oh god.' He squeezed his eyes tight shut until he saw swirling patterns. 'I'm sorry Scully.'

'I know.' She felt her hand on his. 'We need to talk about it but it doesn't make me hate you. How could you think that?'

'That's not all Scully.' Reluctantly he opened his eyes. 'I did something much worse.'

She heaved a sigh and squeezed his hand. 'This is something I'm going to hate you for, right?'

He nodded miserably.

'Worse than these other secrets of yours?'

He nodded again.

She regarded him. She knew he had other secrets but she was still no closer to imagining what he could have done that would be so terrible. She stood up. 'I can't do this without coffee. Give me a minute. Okay?'


	8. Chapter 8

Kitchen of holiday cottage

Bush Bay

Saturday 18th December

Mid Morning.

Scully slid a mug of coffee under her partner's nose and settled herself back in the chair across from him. She spent a moment absorbing the fragrant steam, steeling herself for that first scalding sip. The liquid hit her veins and brought a false strength to her jelly like innards. It had obviously been far too long between lovemaking if it left her feeling this weak inside.

But it wasn't really the lovemaking that was making her weak and she knew it. It was the feeling of dread emanating from her partner. She took another sip and raised her eyes. 'Okay Mulder. Lay it on me. Why am I supposed to hate you?'

He held her gaze for a second then looked down at his cup. Then he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. After all it might not be as bad as he thought. She had taken his other secrets rather well. But, the little voice in his head said, she had actually known about them anyway. He brightened slightly. Maybe she already did know. No. He was quite sure she didn't.

He took another breath and then he asked. 'Do I seem familiar to you Scully? Did you think you'd seen me before?' He looked up into her puzzled face. 'Before you came to work with me?'

She looked at him hard and he was pleased to see her thinking, taking his question seriously. 'I had seen you before,' she finally said. 'I attended a lecture you gave at Quantico on the value of evidence seen in situ at crime scenes. That was about a year before I was partnered with you. I had heard about you before that of course but I'm fairly sure we never met.'

'We did,' Mulder said quietly. He looked down and fiddled with his mug. 'I saw you at that lecture and I knew you straight away. I could never forget. I couldn't believe it. Then I checked you out and it all fit.'

'What fit? What are you talking about?'

'San Diego Scully.' He looked up into her blank face. 'Fourth of July 1980. On the beach, remember what happened then?'

Scully folded her arms and glared at him. 'I know what I was doing July 1980. Why don't you tell me your version.'

'But Scully…' Oh god. He didn't want to have to spell it out. He didn't know if he could. Surely she'd put it together now.

'You obviously need to say this Mulder.'

She wanted to hear it. 'Okay.' His hand raked through his hair. She wanted him to say it. That was nothing really when it came to the punishment he deserved. Even so his stomach knotted in pain. 'I don't know where to start.'

'The beginning,' she said gently. 'Tell me like you were explaining the background to a case. Make me understand.'

'Okay. Okay.' He held out a hand to stop her touching him.

'I hated my Dad.' It burst out of him. 'I hated him so much. That was why. That was why I couldn't stay with him. Not then, the bastard. I was supposed to be going to Dad's but I just couldn't.'

He looked up to gauge her understanding. 'He didn't hit me any more. I was too big for that but he was cruel in other ways. He didn't want me. Mom didn't want me either and I was supposed to spend two weeks with him. So I just didn't go.'

He took a deep breath. So far so good. 'I was nearly 18 and I was miserable. I stood on the side of the interstate with my thumb stuck out and hopped in to the first truck that stopped. I got out somewhere and got another ride, and another. A trucker tried it on with me and I decided trucks maybe weren't a good idea so I went for cars after that.'

He looked carefully up from under his fringe to see Scully's eyes squarely on him. 'I met some guys in Pittsburg. They were from New Jersey and had just decided to head for California.' He shrugged. 'They were going the long way.' His mouth wrinkled into a wry grin. 'It didn't seem so odd when you knew them.'

He stopped for a moment remembering that strange time. 'Their names were Wayne, Barry and Dean – Weaner, Baza, and Diesel. They were trying to be bad.

'I don't know Scully. I think they fancied themselves as outlaws. I guess they didn't get much chance for that in New Jersey and this road trip thing they were on was a way to act out all the bad old movie rolls. I only figured that out later. Then I thought they were really bad and it was cool. God Scully it was good. I'd tried so hard to be good all my life and it never got me anywhere. Mom didn't notice, I could have been good, bad or indifferent. Dad hated me whatever I did, at school I just got teased. But I kept trying so hard to be good because I thought one day…' Even now the thought brought a huge lump to his chest. He whispered. 'I thought one day they might be proud of me.

'But with those guys,' He forced a sickly smile. He couldn't stop and face Scully's pity. 'They didn't know I was a good boy. Hell, they didn't even know I was supposed to be really bright. They didn't care and it was so good to be bad.'

He looked up to see Scully's gaze was full of tears. Don't pity me Scully. I don't deserve it. 'We did some bad things Scully.' She didn't say anything. 'God, I'm so sorry.'

He buried his face in his arm and started when he felt her hand on his head. Didn't she understand? Did she still not get it? 'Jesus Scully. Don't you see?'

'Keep talking Mulder. You tell me. I want to hear you say what you've done.'

He screwed his eyes tight shut but the world didn't go away. It was a major effort to get his breathing back under control. 'We did some gas stations. You probably don't know about that.' Hurried on before she could answer. 'We never hurt anyone. There was a convenience store too. And we did drugs. It was the drugs that were the problem. That's why it happened.' If he chewed his lip any harder it was going to bleed.

'Go on Mulder. Tell me how it happened.'

'Scully. Please.'

'Tell me. You've got this far. I want to hear it.'

'It was the drugs. We tried different sorts but it was the pills… I think they were speed but I don't know.'

'So what happened?'

Christ! 'It made me horny!' He looked up and glared at her, could feel himself flushing red with mortification. 'God it beat viagra hands down. I would be so aroused I could hardly control myself. I was whacking off all over the place. The guys thought it was really funny. That was how I got my knick name. They called me "Meat". Couple of times Baza even sucked me off.' He buried his face in his arm again. 'I don't know Scully. I was a virgin.' His words were bitter. 'No girl I knew wanted to come near me. I was too weird. Except there was one cheerleader for the basket ball squad.' His breath hitched as he remembered the humiliation. 'I thought she really liked me. I'd kissed her. I thought we might even, you know…' He made a mewling noise of hurt. 'Then I found out she was only seeing me for a dare. No one in their right mind would want to be involved with "The Crazy Fox".' He couldn't go on but Scully got the drift.

She left him quiet for a moment then said quietly. 'What happened in San Diego?'

He spoke into the tabletop. 'I thought I might be gay see. The only people who had ever fancied me sexually had been men. I didn't know. I didn't think I was but guys obviously fancied me. And it felt good when Baza went down on me. Maybe I was. He wanted me to do more but I wasn't too keen.' His voice tapered off. He took a minute or two to marshal his thoughts.

'We'd got to California. We had a bit of money so we could have found somewhere to stay, but that didn't fit our image of ourselves. Fourth of July we went down onto this beach near San Diego and lit a fire and cooked sausages and toast. We saw the sun set over the water and it was magic. It was a good time Scully.'

He felt rather than saw her nod. 'We had smoked some dope, drank some beer and then someone brought out the pills. I was pretty wasted already and then the pills made me horny and wasted. I lay there with my dick pointed at the stars and remember we were talking about whether I was gay or not. Baza wanted to sit on my dick. I probably would have let him too but Diesel reckoned I wouldn't know if I liked guys or girls until I'd screwed a girl. He was feeling it too. He wanted some action. So we decided we had to find some girls.'

Mulder shuddered and tried to bury himself deeper in the protection of his arms. He hated talking like this in front of Scully anyway but he had to let her know why the rape had happened. Not that it excused it but he wanted her to know how he could have done something like that. He felt like he was speaking through a mouthful of mush when he continued. 'There was a house farther along the dunes and there was a party going on. There were lots of lights and music. We could see lots of people. We were going to try and crash it'

He looked up, his eyes bleak. 'But we didn't have to did we?'

Scully licked her lips. 'Keep talking.' He could see she got it now. His heart and his hands felt like ice.

'Two girls came walking along the beach. They were really pretty. One was blonde, a real cheerleader type and the other one…' He choked. 'She was different. She was smaller and… softer. Her hair glowed like an extension of the fire.' He was mumbling into the tabletop now and Scully moved closer to hear. 'I thought you were lovely. I'd never seen anyone with hair like that.

'You came walking along until you saw our fire in the dunes and you held back. Then Weaner called out and asked if you'd like a drink. You said that you would and you came and sat by our fire and I couldn't stop looking at you. We all drank and you smoked some but I could tell you hadn't smoked before but your friend had. God you both looked gorgeous by our fire and Diesel and I had to go for a swim and jack off in the water cause you looked so good.

'When we came back Weaner and your friend were making out. They were grunting and groaning and bouncing up and down just behind the fire. They must have been really wasted or else they liked being watched but it made me so hard again. You were sitting there all prim and proper and pretending nothing was happening. When we came back you told her that you'd both better go back but she didn't hear you of course. But Baza said you couldn't go back yet cause you had to kiss me. You didn't want to but Diesel said you could kiss him instead and he grabbed you.'

Mulder couldn't stop now. Twenty years of festering memory was finally venting. The words tangled with snotty sobs. 'You fought him and started to yell but your friend was bucking away on Weaner. She was too far gone to care. She wouldn't have heard you anyway. No one else could hear you, then Diesel slapped you and told you to shut up and you wouldn't get hurt and you must have decided that was the best thing to do. You were wearing a blouse and a skirt and Baza ripped your top and I went for the skirt. You just lay there and I got your pants off and… and…'

'Oh Scully!' He retched. 'The noises the others were making and I was so drunk. God!' he moaned. 'God! Oh God!

'I just ripped my trunks off and shoved into you and you just lay there. Then Baza shoved his dick in your mouth and I came. Christ!'

Mulder gave a hysterical giggle. 'That was my first time and I guess it was your's too. Then you bit his dick and he screamed and Diesel whacked you. Then Diesel shoved me out of the way and he had you too and Baza just sat in the sand and howled.' Mulder pulled his hand over his mouth and fought back nausea. 'Then I saw your eyes.'

He realised he was rocking, bumping his head on the table. Scully wasn't saying anything and there was no way he could look up at her. No way in hell. Christ, the memories of that night must hurt her enough without discovering that he had been not only a part of it, but the cause of the rape in the first place.

He finally drew a breath and tried to carry on. Scully remained silent.

'I could see it in your eyes. What we'd done to you. And I just got up and ran away from there. And I kept running.' He was sobbing hard now. 'I felt so sick. I didn't want to be bad any more. I'd done something so bad. It was all my fault. And I'd ruined you. I knew that. I'd hurt you so bad. I didn't know who you were but I knew that. So I just ran and I didn't stop. I think my mind shut down and I couldn't do anything other than run, I ended up getting hit by a motorhome two days later on a freeway somewhere near Anaheim.'

He cried for a couple of minutes and then kept talking. 'I was hurt pretty bad. I don't remember much. They called my Dad and he came out and fixed things up somehow. The accident was miles from San Diego and I don't think I was ever connected with the rape but they wanted me for the gas station robberies. I don't know what he did but there are no records of it that I know of. I was mad at him. I wanted to go to prison. But I went home with him until I was well and then he packed me off to England.

'We never ever talked about it. Not ever.'

Scully still didn't speak.

'I've never forgotten. I hated myself.

'Then I met Pheobe. She was really good at flagellation.' He snorted. 'At least we figured out I wasn't gay.' He still couldn't look up. He wondered if he might be sick now.

'When I saw you in that audience at Quantico I thought you'd recognise me for sure. Then when nothing happened, no police knocked down my door, I thought maybe it hadn't actually been you. But I looked up your background and you checked out. Your family had been in San Diego then and I guessed you just didn't want to bring it up. I thought maybe you were afraid to…

'Then, then when I heard you'd been assigned to be my partner… God Scully, I felt so sick. I was sure you must have recognised me and you had been plotting and now you were going to bring me down. You were going to debunk my work and I don't know… You were going to earn my trust and then let me down. I thought maybe you were even going to let me get myself killed. I couldn't trust you. I would have deserved whatever you threw at me but I was really frightened.

'And you didn't. You didn't say anything. And I waited and waited. I couldn't decide if you were a really good actor but then you seemed to care about me. It made me so paranoid waiting for you to let me down. And you know I do paranoia so well. But nothing happened and my instincts started to tell me that you were for real and you really did care. You couldn't do that if you knew it was me that raped you. So then I figured that you didn't recognise me. I guess I had been pretty scruffy and dirty that day and you'd have had no reason to associate me with that time. I was starting to care about you so much, and to trust you. But I kept waiting for something to trigger those memories and for you to realise it was me.'

Mulder's rambling's were nearly incoherent now. 'But it didn't. So sometime or another I knew one day I would have to tell you. I thought you might bring up the subject of rape one time if we had a similar case. But you never did. I wondered if you had repressed your memories. I thought that if you ever said anything about being raped then I would tell you.

'I started to love you Scully. I know you loved me. But how could I let you touch me? I couldn't let you touch me. What would happen if we were making love and then you remembered? I was a coward. And I didn't deserve you. I'd done the worst thing to you that a man could do. How could you love me if you knew that? It was much easier to act stupid and put you off. I didn't give a damn about bloody unwritten fucking work rules. I just couldn't let you get too close. I thought one day you'd give up and go away and then I'd have my memories and I could go back to being a miserable lonely bastard. But when you did come and tell me you were leaving I fluffed it. Completely. Christ. My mouth just ran away from me and I told you I couldn't go on without you.

'I couldn't.'

He took a deep breath and looked up. 'I still can't Scully. I really really love you Scully and I finally have to stop being a coward and tell you the truth. That way,' he bit back a sob. 'At least you'll be making your decision based on all the facts. I can live with that.' He dropped his head back onto the table. 'But I wanted you to know before we made love. You hijacked me this morning and I couldn't stop myself but I won't take the blame for that.'

An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Mulder was shaking with spent emotion. He was exhausted. The only other person he had ever told this story to besides his father was Phoebe. His father had waited until they were in a motel room the day he came out of hospital and had given him his last ever beating. Dad had knocked him out but he must have kept hitting. The bruises merged with the bruises from the accident and no one ever noticed. Phoebe, in a move that was very characteristic had enthusiastically brought him to arousal and jumped on him when he'd told her. The sick bitch. His story had turned her on. Now he'd told Scully he didn't know what to expect but he was actually relieved to have told her. He couldn't do any more. It was up to her now. That was a relief. He felt cold and drained. He was light headed and wanted nothing more than to return to bed and pull the covers over his head, never to emerge. Maybe he'd throw up first.

She still didn't say anything. He wondered if he sat there long enough if he would just die. He heard her move over and sit on the couch.

'Scully? I don't know what else to say?'

He could hear her breathing.

'I know I should have told you years ago. I know that.' Wearily he turned his head to look at her. Her face was streaked with tears. 'God I hurt you so bad. And then you must feel so betrayed. To find out after all this time that it was me.' She shook her head. 'I'm sorry Scully. I'm so sorry I hurt you.'

'You didn't,' she said softly. Her first words for a long time.

'What?' he whispered.

'You didn't hurt me Mulder. You didn't rape me.'

'Oh for Christ sake Scully!' He found himself shouting. 'Don't give me that. You can't take away my guilt for this! I know you let me do it but just because you didn't fight doesn't mean it wasn't rape. You can't make me feel better. I'm not stupid. There was no way that was consensual. That was a rape on that beach.'

'Oh I don't doubt it was rape all right Mulder. It sure sounds like one to me and you ought to feel guilty for it. But,' she paused to make sure he was following her, 'It… wasn't… me… You didn't rape me. I wasn't on that beach that night. I have not been raped, in that sense anyway. You didn't hurt me.'

'What?!'

Scully shook her head sadly. 'It wasn't me. I never denounced you. I never plotted against you. I couldn't have because I had never seen you before that lecture at Quantico.'

'Oh Jesus!' His body shook with horror. Scully didn't go to him.

When he'd calmed a little she said. 'I think I know who she was. Her name was Christine Wills and she did look a bit like I do now. She was a bit older than me and I know she got raped on the beach at Kathleen Elacourt's Fourth of July party. I wasn't invited. I didn't fit in with that set. When we heard about it it was pretty scary. None of us went near the beach after dark again.'

It ruined her life,' she said coldly. 'I don't know what happened to her later but I know her grades dropped and she was away from school a lot. I used to think she was pretty but she didn't seem to be after the party.'

The silence stretched out, broken only by their shaky breaths.

'You know Mulder,' Scully said almost casually. 'A lot of things make sense now.'

'Scully. What am I going to do?'

'I don't know.' She got up jerkily and went and started throwing dishes in the sink. 'I think it's too late to do anything. I don't think Christine would be pleased to hear from you, whatever her life is like now. Even if you could find her.'

'Aw Christ, fuck Scully! I'm sorry.' He cried some more. Scully cried too with her hands in the sink. After a while a glass of water appeared by his elbow and he drank it messily. He sank his head back into his arms.

'What about us now?'

'I don't know Mulder. This changes a lot. I need some time to think. Just… Just leave me alone for a while.'

He nodded and swallowed. 'Okay.' He stood up swaying slightly. 'I'll pack my stuff. I can go out on the mail boat at lunch time.'

'No.' She smiled wetly at him and placed a hand on his arm. 'I didn't mean that. I just want a bit of space now. Go for a walk or something.'

'Okay.' He felt weak, stunned by the events of the morning. Without another word he stumbled out the door.

As the sobs that had racked his body subsided Mulder found himself curled, chilled and cramped on the cold concrete top of the water tank. Head pounding, nose streaming he struggled to a sitting position and realised he had no recollection of getting to this place and no idea how long he'd been lying there sobbing his heart out like a bereft two year old. Dressed only in the shorts and tee shirt he'd thrown on in his hurry to get out of the bedroom in the morning he realised that the day was much cooler than it had been previously. Through the trees the sky was overcast and a wind was working up quite a chop on the open waters of the sound. He needed to blow his nose and as nothing else was at hand he reached for the hem of his shirt, only to stop and stare at it in disgust. He's obviously been sick at some stage too.

Pulling his knees up he wrapped his arms around them and rested his head on his knees. He was so tired. God what a monumental cock up. A stray sob caught him and nearly set him off on another round. He tried to think logically without reverting to emotion but every time he thought back to that girl on the beach he saw, as he had done for seven years now and he was sure he had always done, Scully's face. He had been so sure. He couldn't get over it. How could it not have been her? The fact that it wasn't, he couldn't figure out whether that made things better or worse. He was still a rapist. He'd tried to hard to atone for that but it still held true.

The telling of his tale had brought back all the distress he felt about that July night in such exquisite detail that he felt little different from how he had felt as he had run from the scene nineteen and a half years ago. Maybe that was the reason that after he clambered off the tank and washed his face and drank from the stream he turned up hill and followed the track farther into the bush.

God. What must Scully think of him now?

Oh poor Mulder. Poor poor Mulder. Idly Scully pegged washing on the line strung between the corner of the cottage and a tree. Mulder was one of the most decent human beings she had ever met and now the shock of his story had worn off she could see him as nothing other than another victim of the events of that day. After all the shitty things that had happened in his childhood, it was so unfair that something like this had happened to him too. The guilt of it could so easily have destroyed him. In a way she supposed it had.

She reached the last garment, a pair of Davy's shorts and turned to look out towards the bay. The sky was clouding over and a wind was coming up. It looked like it might even rain later. Hopefully the washing would have time to dry before then. There was a little clothes drier tucked into the tiny laundry but there was something about hanging clothes outside. She loved the thought of it. She didn't want to use the drier.

She left the basket and wandered off towards the beach. How the hell had he mistaken that Christine Wills for her? Oh god, no wonder he took so much guilt on board every time something bad happened to her. No wonder he was so protective. How would he have behaved if he hadn't believed that? Her mind replayed hundreds of incidents over the years, large and small. Antarctica, her cancer… Jesus, years ago he had even exchanged a woman he believed at the time to be Samantha. He'd traded Samantha for Scully in a botched hostage swap. Samantha his Holy Grail! Even at the time she had wondered at his motives but he had been in too much pain to question.

Their whole partnership was built on a misconception. Mulder's responses to her were founded on his belief that he had perpetrated a crime against her. Her belief all these years that he cared for her just didn't stack up. No, she couldn't quite believe that even with the evidence to the contrary. He did care for her now. If she were honest she would have to say she was sure he really had for years. But she couldn't be sure could she? Not now. And the fact was he hadn't to start with!

His reticence about a real relationship was for no reason she could ever have imagined. God it just blew her out of the water. What might their relationship have been? Would he even have given her a chance in the first place if he hadn't felt that obligation. God what a mess. She wandered disconsolately onto the jetty. She looked around expecting to see Mulder on the beach somewhere but the place seemed deserted. The boys were missing too. She wondered where Mulder had gone.

And then there were the other parts of his story. Little throw away lines as though he didn't think those details important. His efforts to "be good", to make his parents proud of him, the girl who had only gone out with him for a dare. It broke her heart.

She sat down and dangled her feet over the edge. She really wished she could talk to her mother. She had no idea what time of day it was a home and the maths for working it out eluded her over wrought brain right now. She gazed down into the clear water. Schools of little fish were clustered around the pilings. Fox Mulder was a good man. Yes he had raped someone but he hadn't been alone. However she had come to own the feeling, she loved him. She loved him too much to be able to condemn him for being involved. And he'd suffered so much because of it. Jesus what a way to loose your virginity. In a way she suspected he'd been trying to make up for his crime ever since, not just with her but his choice of courses and career. His length of time working for VCS had undoubtedly been due to guilt, no one in their right mind would choose to stay in that line of work once they realised the effect it had on their health. She doubted the guilt of that attack had sat as heavily on the other participants as it had on him. It was a shame his father had covered it up. If he could have faced up to it, made reparation somehow, he could have moved on.

And hells teeth, the truly unbelievable bit, Scully covered her face with her hands feeling something akin to despair, for the last six years he'd been working with and falling in love with the woman he thought was his victim. It could only happen to Mulder. No wonder their relationship went no where. She gave in to tears. No wonder he was so screwed up.

Mulder settled into a steady jog as he headed up the track. He wasn't thinking but if he had been he would have planned to follow the track until it met the road and then follow the road until he was exhausted enough to return. He held his arm close against his chest, as he hadn't even picked up his sling in his hurry to dress. It was a relief to get his body moving. He started to warm a little and the aches of his body served to blunt his emotional pain as he had unconsciously hoped they would.

He hadn't yet got to the stage where the physical body took over completely and for now his mind was on a type of continuous replay loop. He staggered through the story over and over again wondering what he could have said, how he could have said it, anything that would have made things better. Interposed with that was memories from that night on the beach. His arousal and attraction to the girls and especially the red headed one. How intoxicated he'd been and finally his unforgivable urge to fornicate with her. Christ how could he have done that, the look in her eyes, her disgust and the sight of Baza's great red cock in her mouth. It all mingled into a horror soup of images and guilt and disgust. Blinded by tears he pushed himself harder and faster up the hill ignoring the pains of his body that hadn't run for weeks, the ache in his lungs and the sharp stabs from his arm as it knocked against him. He drove himself on and on.

Rounding a bend he nearly ran full tilt into a figure standing there. Pulling up with a jerk and flailing arms he stood panting. He stared.

'What the fuck do you want?' he screamed. 'Have you come to warn me of something? Well you're too fucking late. I've already fucked up. I've just lost the only woman I've ever loved and my life is over okay. So I don't give a damn about whatever the hell it is. Just leave me alone. Piss off!' He advanced on the Maori warrior ready to give him a thrashing. He'd have attacked nearly anything at that point. The warrior seemed to recognise this and retreated backward up the track, high stepping and arrogant, arms crossed and a look of disgust upon his tattooed face.

After about six backward steps he stopped and held his ground. His arms unfolded and assumed an unmistakable fighting pose, his eyes wide and nostrils flaring. Wisely Mulder stopped. They stood there staring at each other while Mulder tried desperately to catch air in his heaving chest and clear his mind enough to decide what to do.

As Mulder's breathing became easier the warrior relaxed a little. He stood with his head slightly sideways and studied the other man. He nodded his head as if he understood something of Mulder's distress and sympathised with it. But it was a disdainful sympathy and as soon as Mulder had regained control he gestured with his head and led off onto a nearly hidden smaller trail than ran steeper up the hill. He went a few paces then turned to see if Mulder was following. He wasn't. He was rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. 'Hee,' the Maori man said. He beckoned.

Mulder knew he shouldn't. He knew he was too shell shocked to make a decision about anything, and yet in spite of himself and his emotional turmoil, he was still curious. He took a step. It was a definite path the man, or ghost, or whatever he was, was leading him up. What harm could it do? He could always come back whenever he wanted to. Right? Yeah right. Anyway, who gave a damn? He stepped off the main path and followed the warrior deeper into the forest.

Thundery clouds were building over the hills at the head of the sound. Although the sun still shone on Bush Bay the wind was cold. Scully finally got up from her place on the end of the jetty and followed the sound of voices into Mrs Mac's front garden. Mrs Mac, sitting on an old canvas golf stool and wearing rubber boots in place of her slippers was directing the boys in the task of digging potatoes. They already had a bucketful when Scully arrived.

Mrs Mac smiled when she saw Scully. She indicated that Scully should sit on the grass beside her. 'The first of the crop,' she said. 'I always like to have new potatoes for Christmas. We'll have new peas and carrots, maybe a cauliflower, our own ham, smoked fish and strawberries. All,' she said proudly, 'raised here.'

Scully smiled. It seemed idyllic. This place with its seemingly simple life held huge appeal right now. She was so tired of life being a struggle. If it wasn't a struggle for survival it was a struggle for sanity itself. It had to stop. She suddenly wondered if the Consortium even knew this place existed. Could they hide away here and heal? Could they stay here and let the world and its conspiracies pass them by?

She became aware that Mrs Mac had asked her something. 'I'm sorry.'

Mrs Mac was looking at her with concern. Then she turned to the boys. 'Tell you what fellas, you can have those for your tea. Take those spuds over to your place and find something to put them in. Then you can come back and dig some more for me. Go on now. Run along.'

When the boys had obediently run she turned back to Scully. 'Dana, tamariki. What's wrong?' She hustled her up. 'Come inside. We need a cup of tea.'

Mrs Mac made a pretty good substitute for her mother. Scully told her everything. She couldn't think of any reason not to.

Mulder's body was starting to tell him he'd had enough of pushing up hill. He was no longer running but Rangitu was setting a brisk pace and they had been going predominantly upwards for nearly an hour now. Mulder's breath was harsh in his chest and his head was pounding, throbbing in time to his rapid pulse and exacerbated by his stumbling steps. He followed Rangitu's brown back through tangled undergrowth up a track that had become so faint he wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't been following someone.

Rangitu seemed undeterred, both by the elusiveness of the track and by the gradient of the hill. But then it wouldn't bother him would it, not if he were a ghost. He wasn't breathing was he?

That thought gave Mulder a start. Was he breathing? Was that really a ghost in front of him? In spite of everything, he wasn't sure if he really believed in ghosts. He quite liked the thought of ghosts, but unlike aliens he'd seen no real evidence to support the theories. And in spite of what Scully seemed to believe he did actually need some evidence to believe in something. That was why he could never quite get it on with god.

The man in front looked solid. He certainly seemed to be more than just ectoplasm or whatever the hell ghosts were supposed to be made of. He looked as if you could touch him, and although they had come within millimetres of each other Mulder couldn't say whether it would have been possible to touch him or not. He'd decided that the man wasn't an actor dressed up because his tattoo looked real. But that didn't mean he wasn't an actual real time man. Maybe he was a sort of a hermit who just liked dressing up and acting like his ancestors. Mulder struggled for breath. Whoever he was he had no trouble going up hills.

Just when Mulder started to worry that he would be left behind, the trail crested a ridge and dropped steeply into a ravine thick with cutty grass. The Maori swung himself down easily as Mulder slipped down the rock and ploughed through the vegetation. Stinging from hundreds of little cuts to his bare legs and arm he slid into the stream at the bottom with a curse. 'Hey,' he shouted. 'You. Rangitu.' He bent over panting. He looked up to where the warrior waited, already half way up the bank on the other side. There was a lot of vegetation between them and he couldn't tell whether the man was breathing or not. 'Where are we going?'

The man took up his now familiar folded arm stance and stared at him. Mulder sat down on a rock and leant back on his arm. 'Do you speak English?' he tried again. Rangitu just stared.

'Oh Fuck!' Mulder stared up at the canopy, which was a long way above him. There was quite a wind getting up now, it was even starting to make an impression here under the trees. He was starting to get his breath back.

This forest was like nothing he'd ever been in at home in America. The colours were different. The forest was denser somehow. It was closer to being primeval. And it suddenly made him very anxious because he was in the middle of it following a ghost god knows where.

He stood up heart suddenly thumping. He looked anxiously up the bank. Rangitu was still there looking at him with disdain. He took a slightly easier breath. Wherever they were going Rangitu wanted to make sure he got there. Cursing, awkward with his injured arm he started to scramble up the muddy bank after his enigmatic companion.

They continued on. Mulder had come to the conclusion that they were slowly going around the hill behind Bush Bay. He was no longer catching glimpses of the sound through the trees but seemed to be looking at more forested spurs. He had no idea where he was. He actually didn't care. He was fairly sure he wasn't too welcome back at the cottage. It was good to have something to do. It was good to push his body to feel pain. Physical sensory input helped to distance him from the turmoil he would otherwise be feeling inside. He was cut to ribbons by sharp grasses, and vicious vines, bruised by rocks and roots. The hairs on his legs where covered with the sticky seeds of a grass. He didn't know it yet but removing those was going to give him an idea of what a leg wax would feel like. His chest and lungs ached with the effort of respiration in such strenuous conditions and his muscles were burning with fatigue. His sore arm ached at best and sent stabs of pain lancing though him at worst. Worst was actually quite frequent as he knocked it often.

He should have felt dreadful but all he felt was relief.

Until a sudden shocking thought hit him. It brought him to a gasping stand still overcome with pain. From out of the blue it suddenly occurred to him. If he hadn't told her she'd never have known!

Great drops of rain were starting to fall as Scully raced along the road back to the cottage to rescue her washing. She grabbed at it; awkwardly bundling it into her arms and letting the pegs drop to the ground. Breathless she flung herself indoors barely wet as she successfully dodged the sparse drops. Just as she reached shelter the drops gathered power and exploded into a torrential downpour. Exhilarated she stood at the glass door and watched the water pour past.

She laughed; inhaling the scent of fresh line dried clothing. She was feeling much better. Ready for the next round even. She knew it was going to be hard. She had no trouble predicting how Mulder was going to be feeling. He would see himself as undeserving of her, as he saw himself undeserving of any of the good things other people took for granted. She knew she was in for a hard time convincing him otherwise. She also had issues she needed to deal with but a relationship, a proper lifetime relationship was possible and she desperately wanted to make the attempt. She knew the next few days were going to be draining, but at last everything was out in the open and they could talk it through and find where they fitted into each other's lives.

'Mulder,' she called softly. Surely he was back by now. He'd been gone hours. Maybe he was lying down, he must be shattered. She'd join him. Some cuddling and a nap would do them both good. The boys were playing with an ancient train set on Mrs Mac's living room floor so they didn't have to worry about them. Mrs Mac was going to give them their tea too so they could have some time to themselves.

Mulder wasn't in the bedroom. Mulder wasn't in the cottage. Damn. He'd be getting soaked. Well at least the rain would drive him home soon.

Mulder had no idea a forest could be so loud. The wind thrashed the tree tops setting off crashes and creaks of frightening intensity. The trees swayed through huge arcs and occasionally something would come crashing past him. The greenery diffused the rain; it was not pelting down like it must be in the open but swirling through the gaps like a heavy mist. It was still very wet and coated his body like an extra layer of sweat.

They were now following the base of a cliff, part of an ancient volcanic plug, sticking surreal and bare of vegetation out of the very top of the hill. Following the side of the rock wall Rangitu led them into an area quite unlike anything they had climbed through in the past. The huge trees disappeared and were replaced by tree ferns. About fifteen to twenty foot tall the tree ferns stood, regularly spaced like rows of green patio umbrellas. Black hairy trunks held aloft thick parasols that held back the rain. In this spot, sheltered by the cliff above them, it was nearly dry. The underneath of the fronds were pale coloured and glowed softly silver in the dim light. It was like another world.

Stepping carefully across the thick litter of fallen fronds Rangitu led the way to the very base of the cliff. From the way he moved Mulder sensed this was the end of the trip. He followed, alert, eyes wide for any hint as to what this was about. He felt curious but not concerned.

Rangitu stopped and stared down at what appeared to be just another pile of dried old fern fronds. It looked brown and slightly ragged, and no different from anywhere else around him. Rangitu knelt so Mulder did too. Rangitu was speaking, saying something quietly and incomprehensible in Maori.

Mulder studied the pile of leaves and suddenly saw a pattern. He recognised what he was seeing. Memories of crime scene photographs flashed before him and tentatively he reached out and moved some dry fronds. It was easy to see it then, bone and rotted fabric and then as he moved more debris the tattered remnants of a human being emerged.

'Oh,' Mulder let out a sigh. Of all the reasons for this bizarre hike he hadn't considered this. Gently he reached out and touched the skull.

…Falling….

Christ, he was falling. He scrabbled for handholds and missed. His heart thumped adrenaline then…. nothing. There was nothing below him but the distant forest canopy and that was rapidly approaching. Falling.

He screamed.

This was it!

Mulder sat back on his bum with a thump. His heart hammered against his ribs and he thought he was going to be sick. He swallowed furiously and gasped in air, his eyes wide with fright. Jesus, the sensation had been twenty times stronger than the odd dream of missing a step. It was so real. He stayed where he was and looked hard at the huddle of bones, then slowly he lifted his gaze up. He tracked up, past the tops of the tree ferns, up, eyes scanning the cliff face through the rain, up, until he was looking vertically upwards to the top of the cliff way way above him. 'Oh God,' he whispered. 'Is that what happened to you?'

More cautiously now he used a stick to clear the forest detritus from the remains. He sat back again to study them. There was no flesh left, just bone brown and mottled from exposure to the forest. The skeleton was slightly scattered which was to be expected and still partially clothed in tattered fabric. Dark coloured pants and a pale coloured shirt. He could tell it was a shirt because he could see buttons. He didn't know why but he was sure it was a male. He was tall enough to be an adult but Mulder again had a feeling that he was quite young. He was no forensic expert; he didn't need to be. The inadvertent thought of Scully sent a twang of pain through his chest. He swallowed hard and tamped those thoughts down. There'd be time for that later.

So, the body was clothed. Therefore and most obviously it was not an ancient relic and not Rangitu's body or anything that bizarre. In fact from the state of the fabric and lack of flesh he was guessing it had been here more than a year but no longer than two or three. And he'd died by falling from the top of the cliff. By the way the bones were scattered it was hard to tell what injuries he would have sustained from the fall. But after a fall like that, Mulder grimaced, death would have been instantaneous and the bones weren't going to tell anyone anything about soft tissues at terminal velocity impacting with the ground.

Rangitu had brought him here to find him. Mulder looked around. And now Rangitu was gone.

Scully paced around the little front room. Damn Mulder. The rain had been joined by high wind and visibility had dropped so that she could barely see the beach. The trees were whipping backwards, forwards and sideways with the wind and small pieces of plants dashed past the window. It just had to be absolutely freezing out there.

Jesus Mulder, I told you to go for a walk, not to bloody run away. Where the hell did you go? Had she not made herself clear when she told him not to pack his gear and leave? Surely he'd understood that she just wanted space for an hour or so. Hadn't he?

She was starting to get worried. She knew he wasn't dressed for the weather outside and if he'd gone too far he would probably be hypothermic before he managed to get back. He just didn't have the physical reserve to cope, she knew it. God damn, knowing Mulder he'd probably end up with a fever too. Yes, her mind screamed, you know cold and wet don't cause fevers. But, the Dana part, not the doctor part, answered, in Mulder's case it will.

Where could he have gone? She hadn't paid any attention to which direction he'd taken when he left. Trust Mulder to over react and disappear. What the hell were you thinking telling him to go for a walk, her little voice asked her? In the state he was in, what did you think he would do? You know how easily he can loose himself. He always takes off and runs when he's upset. And that was major upsetting.

But I was upset too, one of the voices answered.

Shit! But I didn't know it was going to storm did I?

Enough already. She opened a can of soup from their stores; ready to help warm him when he came in. The bed was made and the electric blanket on. Where was he? She glanced at her watch; it was nearly four o'clock. She came to a decision. He'd been gone since about 9 in the morning, upset, with no food and no warm clothing. It was time to take action. If he hadn't come back by now, he most likely wasn't going to able to make it back under his own steam. It was time to call out the cavalry. She viciously tamped down the vivid image of a broken body at the bottom of a cliff that suddenly flooded into her mind.

She went to the phone and dialled the number written on the wall above it. Tom answered on the third ring.

'Tom I'm worried. Mulder hasn't come back yet. He's still out there in the rain.

Mulder was cold now. His tired body ached with it. 'Scully,' he moaned quietly. 'I'm making that face.' He had just completed another search of the area he was sure the track had to be in and hadn't been able to find a sign. He knew they had come up from beside the rock but in spite of repeated attempts to penetrate the thick undergrowth at the edge of the fern grove he hadn't been able to find anything resembling a track. He was in a bad situation and he knew it.

He moved back into the slight cover afforded by the cliff face, no caves to hide in unfortunately, just a slight overhang, and sank down, knees pulled up to his chest. 'Hey,' he shouted, just in case Rangitu was listening. 'Where are you? Come on you bastard, it's time to go home.' He stretched his tee shirt out and pulled it down over his legs. That was a little warmer. Christ he was scratched and bruised and so bloody cold. He pulled his good arm inside the shirt too. There was no way he would have dared try to do that with the other one. At least it was bandaged although a wet soggy bandage didn't provide much in the way of warmth. 'Fuck you,' he muttered, holding back tears. 'What was the point of bringing me here if I don't get to go back and tell someone where he is?'

Nobody answered.

He lowered his head onto his knees and started to rock. Fuck he was uncomfortable. Come on Scully, he thought. I know you're pissed with me but come find me please. I didn't mean to ditch you. It just happened. I meant to come back. I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. I'm so sorry about everything Scully. I love you

He suddenly snapped his head upright, sickened by his self disgust. She's not going to save you again you bastard. Get used to it. You'll have to save yourself. Now, you can't find the track you came on, but there might be another one. Get off your ass and look.

If there was another track Mulder couldn't find it. He couldn't find a cave or anywhere to shelter either, so refusing to give in to another bout of self pity he set about making one. Part of the cliff face, right near the boy's body was angled away from the wind and had a patch of near dry sand at it's base. He started collecting fern fronds, wrenching them bodily off the smaller trees and propping them against the rock to make a rough lean to. Sacrificing his bandage to tie it together and using some heavier pieces of wood he made it into quite a sturdy structure the exertion warming him a little. Then he set about collecting dry material to make a nest; there were a lot of old fronds on the ground.

He stood back and surveyed it with something like satisfaction. It was lopsided, primitive, and probably wouldn't last the night but he'd made it and it had to be warmer and drier in there. A couple of last minute tweaks and he crawled inside and started burrowing into his bedding. This time he did have his bad arm inside his shirt, it was bare now and that stuff was scratchy as hell.

'Cave man Mulder,' he muttered sardonically. He curled on his side, head on his arm and his legs again pulled into his shirt. Shit it really wasn't warm in here. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Nothing to do but think.

Scully.

He dozed.

Scully.

He woke from a warm memory of Scully taking him in her arms to find what had woken him was not her touch but his shelter collapsing on top of him. Fuck. It didn't seem to matter much. It wouldn't keep him any drier if he fixed it so he didn't, just lay there staring at the patterns the green fronds made as they interlaced and moved with the wind in front of his eyes.

He felt so sad. He'd lost her. She was gone now, forever and he'd have to get used to life without her. If he survived that was. He'd seen her go down in the water, sinking into the clear water, face up, her long beautiful hair making a halo around her face, the blood in it barely noticeable as the water washed it away. Her eyes were open and she'd seemed to be alive, air coming from her mouth. She was going down slower than he'd expected since there was a large sack of sand tied to her waist. Or maybe time just seemed to move slowly. Then he'd realised that they were mesmerised by the sight too and he'd used the chance that gave him to slip over the side.

His arm was so sore, he thought it had broken when they first hit him with the boat hook. He couldn't swim far, but there was a mussel farm moored in the bay and by good luck he'd reached it and them pulled himself along its rough ropes of shellfish and out of their sight before they realised he'd gone.

He'd rested a little once he reached the landward side of the mussel rafts and then made his way to the beach. And that was when they spotted him, just before he got himself under cover of the bush that grew nearly to the water's edge. He'd started to run then, given energy by adrenaline, fighting his way through the thick growth, heading upwards because it was as good a direction as any. He could hear the boat motor starting and shouts, and then horrifyingly shots rang through the bay. Christ how had he ever gotten into this mess? He couldn't let it end like this. He had to get away and let people know what had happened. Her family would need to know.

He'd raced on, somehow finding passage through the bush. He was trying to think, trying not to panic. He tried to picture where they were, tried to work out where the nearest occupied cottages would be. There was no road out here he knew that, but if he got up and over the ridge, there might be a house in the next bay. The men were on shore now; he could hear them in the bush. They probably knew their way around better than him. There were more shots. They were shooting, randomly, he hoped.

He kept pushing upwards, muscles burning with fatigue, lungs aching, and his arm an agony he just had to ignore. God surely the ridge to the next bay wasn't so high. God he was tired. It had been days since he'd eaten, days since the party that had started so well and ended in horror. So long since Angela had kissed him and suggested they go somewhere quiet. Felt like a lifetime since that bastard Lewis had said there was a spare berth on his boat, did they want it?

Fuck.

And he couldn't believe it. It was only hours since they'd tried to overpower the rapist BASTARD and his ugly little bummer mate had hit him with the boat hook and Angela with an oar… and… she'd died. Just like that. She didn't gurgle or moan or go unconscious and then die. She'd just dropped to the deck, stone cold dead. The fight had stopped and all three of them just stood there. Then Lewis had screamed and would have killed him too but Mike whoever he was wouldn't let him and they'd tied him to the mast and then Lewis had bent Mike over and… He fought down nausea. He still couldn't believe what they'd done. The two of them, both of them howling and jerking and… right there. Right beside Angela's dead body.

A scream rose in his throat and he tamped it down.

He stopped panting. He must be going the wrong way. He'd come so far. It wasn't this far over the ridge. He was too high. And then he realised, he wasn't heading for the next bay, he must be nearly over the saddle and into the next sound. That was what had happened. He was headed up the wrong hill. But… there was a road that ran around the next sound wasn't there? He looked through the trees and was sure he could make out the skyline, he must be nearly at the crest. If he could just keep away from his pursuers he'd be okay.

Then suddenly he caught a flash of a red shirt to his left. Lewis. Shit. And Lewis saw him and raised his rifle. Christ, he broke and ran, dodging, climbing, he had to make it, he just had too. Then suddenly he broke out onto the flat rock at the top of the hill. No cover, none. His legs pumping furiously he flew across the rock as Lewis crashed out of the bush behind him.

He hurtled towards the edge, preparing to dive into the bush on the other side, completely unprepared for what was in front of him. On this side there was no slopping forested hill. The soft hillside had eroded away from the volcanic core. On this side there was only a cliff, with the bush nearly one hundred feet below. Momentum carried him over… falling, nothing to catch at, nothing to stop him. A thought rushed through his head, I'm sorry, so sorry. He screamed.

As his screams died, swallowed up in the rain and wind, Mulder's panic died with them and slowly his own reality asserted itself. He realised he actually had reason to panic. His reality was nearly as bad as the boy's.

It was fully dark now, deeply blackly dark. At first he was completely disorientated, worried he was dead, worried he was blind. Now finally he had it figured out. He was lying in the forest, only a few feet from where the boy had met his death after plunging from the cliff top. A ghost had led him here. It was night. It was raining. He was wet; he was cold. He hurt, badly. And Scully hated him.

It was that last bit that hurt the most. The thought that he had lost Scully and all that that meant tore a large agonising hole in his chest. So he couldn't have her as a lover, he'd gotten used to that. It would have been nice but he could live without it. It was to loose her as a friend that had the possibility to destroy him. After everything that had happened, to think that the thing that had finally torn them apart was his own stupidity. How could he live with that?

He took a deep shuddery breath, slowly getting himself back under control. Better maybe to have died.

Shivering badly he tried to burrow deeper into his burrow which was marginally warmer than the air outside. Well, at least he knew who the boy was now. He was the missing boy from Rod's case here a few years ago, the one whose body had never been found. He tried to remember if he'd ever heard his name. If he had it had only been mentioned in passing and it must have been in the first couple of days after he came out of hospital while he was still so ill. He didn't remember, but tomorrow when he got back he would tell Rod and then…

Okay. So he couldn't die yet. Jesus that might be a tough call. He tried to remember the stages of hypothermia but his brain was working about as well as his body. Right now that wasn't much. He was shivering. That wasn't too bad. Right? It was when you stopped shivering you were in trouble. He tried to remember the medical text he'd seen once but he just couldn't call it up. His arm hurt so badly he could hardly think of anything. He'd finally reduced his pain meds to just paracetamol a few days ago but he'd had nothing now since last night and he'd been regretting that since about whenever he'd found himself on the water tank this morning. So his arm hurt. And the rest of him hurt too. He was scraped and bruised and he was so fucking cold!

God.

He pulled his head into his pile of leaves and gave in to the sobs. This morning he'd made love to Scully and by tomorrow morning… It was never going to happen again. Even if he didn't die tonight.

The rain was dripping relentlessly into his face. He didn't have to worry about thirst. And he never felt hungry when he got upset anyway. The wind had dropped but he hadn't noticed. Oh Jesus. At least though, he'd done it. He'd made love to Scully. Well that wasn't strictly true. She'd made love to him; all he'd done was to go along with it… She'd been so warm.

Warm. What else was warm? Warm baths. Warm sun. Fever, burning up with fever. Fuck he felt cold. Why couldn't he catch something infectious right now? Bet there were no germs up here. Of cause there were no germs up here. You needed people to get germs and there were no people here. No people here. Yes. What an investigator. Fucking, fucking, fucking shit! Warm Scully. He wanted her so desperately. He cried and even his tears were cold.

Scully sprawled miserably across the bed. She tossed the comforter off but she was still too hot. Finally with a sigh she crawled over and turned off the electric blanket on Mulder's side. It felt such a betrayal, as if she'd given up on him. As if she never expected him to come back and climb into its warmth.

Well she didn't expect him to did she, not tonight? The search teams had stopped hours ago, ordered to stop by Search and Rescue once it had become too dark to see. They hadn't wanted to stand down either and she wasn't sure how that made her feel. It was nice that a group of volunteers would put themselves out so much for a total stranger, worrying that they felt finding him couldn't wait until the morning.

She lay staring at the ceiling dried eyed. It was just awful not being able to do anything. Jeez Dana, she mused. Haven't you done enough? Whose fault is it that he took off anyway? She couldn't bring herself to turn out the light. Mulder might be out there somewhere watching. If she turned it out, if the cottage went dark, he'd know she'd given up on him. He'd think she didn't care that she didn't want him back. She couldn't bear him to think that.

She buried her nose into the pillow, trying to pretend she couldn't hear the rain on the roof. The pillow smelt of him. He must have lain on this pillow. This morning he'd been warm and whole and in this bed. This morning they'd made love and it had felt so good. God she'd loved him then. She still loved him now. Oh hell, he hadn't wanted to. He hadn't wanted to make love to her. She understood now. What would have happened if she hadn't done that? Would all his revelations have hurt so much? Would it have hurt him so much?

She gasped as she saw something with sudden clarity. Mulder's first sexual experience had been the rape. His next was with Phoebe and from what Scully understood that had not been a healthy relationship. And neither had his relationship and marriage to Diana. He had been used and abused by women at every turn. No wonder he turned to videos and self-gratification. Celluloid bimbos couldn't hurt him.

She swallowed suddenly sickened and her blood ran cold. Scully finally saw what she had done. This morning she had taken advantage of him. She'd seen it as love making he'd… He had felt something pretty close to rape. Oh dear lord. She had to have hurt him badly. He would never trust her again.

Sometime in the night two figures appeared in the fern cathedral under the cliff. They were both dark skinned and dark haired. They looked very similar sharing facial characteristics and a certain regal poise. They walked arm in arm towards the man lying huddled in the dark. The woman removed the tightly woven mat she wore as a cape around her shoulders. In modern terms she was near naked underneath. The cape was large and she spread it out so that it completely covered the man at her feet. The couple spoke, arguing in soft voices and then she bent and climbed in under the mat, taking the man there in her arms. She stayed with him during the night, warming him and soothing him when he moaned. Her partner shot a look of exasperation at her then removed his own cape spreading it over the two on the ground. He backed up into the shelter of the cliff and stood, arms folded, keeping a watch until morning.

Bush Bay

Sun 19th Dec

6.30 am

In spite of herself Scully must have slept because she suddenly found herself being shaken awake by a fully dressed Brad. It was bright daylight outside, the storm completely gone.

'Wake up,' Brad was insisting.

Scully sat bolt upright. 'Mulder?' she asked. Her first waking thought.

'They've got him.' Brad was nodding smiling broadly. 'They're bringing him down now. You need to come.'

Scully glanced at her watch. It was still so early. Brad must have read her thoughts. 'Tom took a team out at dawn. They found him about half an hour ago. It's been light for ages.'

'Is he…'

'He's okay. Mrs Mac says he's hyper…'

'Hypothermic?'

'That's it. She says you're to bring some warm clothes.'

In a haze of sick relief Scully ransacked Mulder's bag for underwear and clothing. She barely had the sense to pull on her own clothes and then she was running along the road to Mrs Mac's. Just before she left she remembered something. She raced back to the bedroom and turned on the electric blanket.

Seeing Mulder grey and unconscious in the tub gave Scully a dreadful sense of déjà vu. She tamped down on those thoughts and calmed herself by concentrating on the task in hand, checking him over for injuries. Other than scratches and bruises he seemed to have gotten off lightly. He hadn't even done any new damage to his arm although the skin was boggy looking from being wet so long. They just had to warm him now and he should be alright. Already he was showing signs of lightening and returning to consciousness.

She knelt back and surveyed him. It really wasn't at all like the situation in Alaska. For a start this bathroom couldn't look less like a medical centre if it tried, and this bath… Hell, she'd never seen anything quite like it. The bath was an old cast iron claw foot model, but in keeping with the bathroom the outside of it was painted in pink primer. Then over the pink someone had painted swirls and waves in virulent green. It occurred to her that maybe Mulder wasn't the only colour blind one in the neighbourhood.

Mulder however looked a lot like he had then. He did not look good. Thank god, this time she could guarantee that at least retro viruses weren't involved here. This time she just had to worry about getting his temperature back up to normal before any serious damage occurred. They didn't have a sub normal thermometer and so far they had not managed to get a reading on the normal one they did have. Tom reported however that he had been semiconscious, trying to talk at times as they brought him out.

She slid her hand into his armpit. Still cold, maybe not as bad as before. She laid her hand on his forehead as he moaned and moved his head. Mrs Mac caught her eye and on her nod turned on the tap to let a little more hot water into the tub. They had to be so careful. If they raised the temperature too quickly his blood would rush to the surface, away from his vital organs and he could die of shock. If he was cold too long he could go into cardiac arrest.

Scully looked up as someone new came into the room. It was the police officer who had led the search last night. He looked uncomfortable.

'How's he doing?' he asked. He was a well built Maori man who last night had been very much in command. There was something subtly different about him this morning.

'Coming along,' Mrs Mac answered as if she were talking about the meat cooking for dinner.

'Do you need the chopper? I've got them on stand by.'

Mrs Mac looked at Scully, differing to her. Scully weighed it up. What Mulder really needed was an IV and for warmed fluids to be pumped directly into his body. But the chopper wouldn't carry that and, she did a rough calculation, even if the flight were only fifteen minutes each way it would still be a minimum of fifty minutes before he was in a hospital. And in the meantime he was here in the warm tub. If he were admitted to hospital he would be there for days and she knew once he came around he would hate that. If they could get him warmed and conscious he should be just fine. If… 'Can you give us half an hour? We should know by then if we can deal with it?'

'Sure. You're the doc.' He turned back to Mrs Mac. 'We've got a full team coming in to search that hill. Can you feed them? It's just for today and then the army will come in. We'll cover costs.'

'Of course Nathan.'

The man stared off into the distance. He was shifting from foot to foot. 'I'm wondering how Tom knew where to look.' He nodded towards Mulder, 'to find him so quick this morning.'

Mrs Mac shrugged. 'It was a lucky guess I think.'

'Yeah sure.' He didn't seem convinced.

'Don't you worry, you just be pleased he's been found.'

'Oh I am. He's not the only one who was found though was he?

'I'm pleased about that too. He's been worrying me.'

'You knew that boy was up there didn't you?'

Mrs Mac held his gaze, eyes wide and innocent. 'Now Nathan, you know me. How would I have known that?'

The policeman chuckled. 'I used to be so scared of you when I was little.'

'You were a naughty boy Nathan Matangi. You were right to be scared. But you turned out all right. Now run along and do your work. We got a live boy to look after here.'

Scully watched his departing back. 'What,' she asked the old woman, 'was that about?'

Mulder was floating. He was in a warm safe place and it was delicious, just to float, just to… be. Warm… mmm, he was warm. Nearly, not quite, still cold deep inside. 'Scully,' he moaned.

'shh.'

He could hear voices. Scully… warm… Ahh. He sank back into the dark.

He slowly surfaced again to her voice.

'Mulder. Mulder, open your eyes. Come on, open your eyes for me.' Her hand, her hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing. 'Come on partner I need you to open your eyes for me. Come on, I know you're there. Try hard, do it for me.'

'Scully?' His voice sounded ragged, his throat raw. He turned his head into her palm, into her touch.

'That's right. Come on Mulder, open your eyes.'

He tried, he didn't want to, he just wanted to sleep. Something had happened he knew it. If he could just stay asleep he wouldn't have to deal with it, whatever it was. But Scully was insisting. And besides he felt water, it felt like he was sitting in a bath. Why was that?

He opened his eyes and blinked at the light. Scully's face swam into focus.

'Hey,' she said in their time honoured way.

'Hey.' He was in a bath. He was naked in a bath. What the hell?

'Mulder, sit down. It's okay. You're all right. Sit still. We have to warm you up. You've been hypothermic. Sit still.' She grinned. 'Relax and enjoy it.'

He settled back, trying to process that. Then the door opened and Mrs Mac came in. Oh. Suddenly everything came flooding back. The night in the forest, finding the boy's body, Rangitu, and backwards to his confession. He dropped his head, suddenly overcome by an enormous shudder of revulsion.

'Easy. It's okay.' Scully had her hand behind his head protecting it from the metal bath. 'It's okay Mulder. Everything is all right.'

Mrs Mac passed her a mug and she held it to his mouth. 'Drink this Mulder. It will help get you warm.' It was another one of her magical teas. This time the contents were a complete mystery to him but he drank it obediently. He was so weak he couldn't even reach a hand up to steady the cup.

When he'd finished he leaned his head back and looked at Scully. He wished they'd left his shorts on. Scully looked her usual, efficient, pleased to see you okay after you've hurt yourself again Mulder, self. She was looking at him with compassion, not disgust. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered but he couldn't have said exactly what he was apologising for.

'I'm sure you are,' she said. Then she smiled at him, radiant and bright. 'Everything is okay Mulder. Really it is.'

He smiled weakly back at her, too tired to analyse that.

Later Mulder wouldn't remember anything about the bath. His only memory of the morning was of sitting, propped up and tightly wrapped in blankets in Mrs Mac's easy chair in the lounge. She was spoon feeding him something warm, soft and sweet. He just lay back opening his mouth and letting the mush slide down his throat. Scully didn't appear in this recollection.

Mulder woke up slowly, groggy and uncomfortably hot. He groaned and tried to roll over, hampered by the bedding wrapped around him. His grazed legs burned where the fabric touched them. He knew instantly where he was, he was in their bed in their cottage on their vacation that hadn't turned out to be much of a holiday and it was the day after he'd told Scully everything. It appeared to be the middle of a hot afternoon and Scully was no where in sight.

Cursing he heaved his sore sweaty body out from under some of the coverings. It wasn't easy. He was tucked in with extra blankets both over the comforter and wrapped around him underneath it. Once he'd fought his way out he found that as well as all the blankets he was dressed in his heavy track suit. With a grunt he pulled the top off.

There was a glass of water beside the bed and greedily he gulped it down. Where was Scully? Why wasn't she here? She obviously cared enough to leave the water, but not enough to sit by him and watch him sleep. Scully had always sat and watched him sleep when he'd been sick in the past. The fact that she wasn't here told him all he needed to know about the way she felt about him now.

The sun shine outside the curtains drew him and he pulled them aside and stared at the glittering water of the bay.

Scully awoke with a start, surprised to find she had fallen asleep. The tacky dryness in her mouth told her she'd been asleep for a while. She'd sat down on the sofa with the tub of chocolate mud ice cream, that being all she'd felt like for lunch. The melted remains sat, soggy and sad, but luckily still in the tub, on the seat beside her. It looked like she'd eaten nearly half of the tub too. Considering her lack of sleep the night before it probably wasn't surprising she'd fallen asleep.

Movement outside caught her eye and she looked up to see Mulder, tender footedly tottering his way across the grass. He was shedding clothing, His tee shirt dropped, his trousers were left behind in a puddle. He started unwinding his bandage so that it streamed out behind him before it too was dropped, as he headed unerringly for the sea. He looked like nothing so much as an overgrown toddler with a water fixation. She had to laugh. That was exactly what he was. She sighed. What the hell had gotten into him now?

Grabbing a towel she took off after him, watching from the sand as he walked into the water as if it wasn't there. And yet the cuts on his legs should be smarting like hell. Once he got chest deep he submerged, swam underwater a little way and came up into a dog paddle. He was headed out to sea. She stared at him, totally bewildered as a wild anger started to build inside. What the fucking hell was he doing now?

'Mulder!' Her voice was strident and loud. She didn't care who the hell heard. 'Mulder, get the bloody hell out of that water. NOW.' She saw him stop and turn to look at her. 'Have you got a bloody death wish. Jesus Christ Fox Mulder get yourself the fuck sake back here. If I have to bring the boat out, God help me I will brain you with an oar. Do You Hear Me! Mulder. Come here now.'

Something must have sunk in. Maybe it was the profanity. He turned and made his way slowly back. She waded in and helped him out, wrapping him in the towel. His eyes looked full, his gaze slightly vacant. Maybe she should have had him checked out for a head injury after all.

'Are you alright?' Her hands searched all over his head. 'What were you doing?'

'I was hot. I wanted a swim. Okay?' His tone was that of a belligerent child. She realised the problem. He was cutting himself off from her. He was putting up barriers.

'Don't you think that was a little foolish considering what you've been through lately?'

'Nope,' he said sulkily. He fell gracelessly onto the lounger under the tree.

Sighing Scully invaded his space and sat at his feet. 'Mulder.' She jogged his foot. 'Mulder, look at me.'

Reluctantly he turned his head. She reached out and took his hands. 'Are you really watching me?'

He was.

'Do you trust me to tell you unequivocally what I think. To make sure that you make your decisions based on the fullest possible background information available?'

He looked puzzled.

'Do you? That's the way we've always worked isn't it Mulder?'

'Yes,' he mumbled.

'So you trust me to tell you the truth as I see it.'

A germ of a smile appeared on his lips. He nodded.

She smiled to see it, smiled at the quirky, annoying, brilliant, stupid, complex man in front of her. She said it quietly and meant it with all her heart. 'I love you Fox Mulder.'

Holiday cottage

4pm

Scully sat across the table from Mulder watching him carefully swallowing the remains of the bread and butter pudding Mrs Mac had made for him that morning. Scully had to admit that the pudding was an inspired choice for invalid food. It was bland and yet tasted good, felt bulky but slid down easily and contained eggs, milk, and sugar to nourish a run down body. And Mulder seemed to like it. Knowing Mulder's stomach when he was upset, finding something he could eat was a tricky task.

He scrapped the spoon around the edges of the dish looking for the last scraps. He licked the spoon. She smiled and slid across a mug of herbal tea made with one of Mrs Mac's home made muslin tea bags. 'Feeling better now?'

'Mmm.' Mulder still looked grey and exhausted but a silly smile was plastered over his face. It had been there ever since her words had sunk in. She loved him. Whatever he'd done, whatever was wrong they could work it out together and she had no intention of leaving him, ever. Everything would be alright.

But now she couldn't wait any longer. 'Mulder, what happened? Why were you up on that hill?'

He told her. It didn't take long.

The look was back, the sceptical, Mulder have you lost your marbles look. 'You're telling me that this ghost led you up there so you would find the body of this boy?'

'Well no, that's not strictly true.' He hurried on, wanting to enlighten her and at the same time, immensely enjoying this familiar process of putting his views out to meet her counter argument. 'I'm not actually a hundred percent sure that he even is a ghost. But…' He held a hand up to forestall her comment, 'I do think whoever he is he chose me because somehow he knew that I would be able to tell what had happened.'

'Oh?' Scully was enjoying this too.

'Yes. You see, at first I couldn't work out why he would go to all the trouble to lead me up there and then leave me. I mean, I thought I would die up there Scully. But then I realised, I dreamed him, the boy. I know what happened.'

'You know what happened!' Scully's voice cut in shrilly. 'You nearly died and you're pleased because you know what happened to some… some corpse you've never met. For God sake Mulder. Listen to you. How do you think I felt last night knowing you were out there somewhere in the rain; probably dying. Did you think about that? What do you think I thought about last night Mulder?'

It hadn't actually occurred to him to think of what Scully was thinking while he was lying in the dark cold and wet. He hadn't actually been able to think too well at the point. 'I don't know,' he said soberly. 'What did you think about?'

She glared at him, teeth barred. 'Oh I don't know. This and that, what I was going to tell your mother, who I'd get as a new partner, why you've let everyone we've met in this country call you Fox. Why is that Mulder? Do you know?'

'Scully I…' He reached out for her but she backed away.

'Come on Mulder. Humour me. Why is everyone here allowed to call you Fox but I'm not? Why is that?'

He was bewildered by the turn the conversation was taking but he desperately wanted to make things right. 'I guess… Rod calls me Mulder.'

'Hmm.'

'Well. This is another life. I don't know. Somehow it doesn't matter the same. And besides, most people who've called me Fox started it before I was in any position to tell them not to. It seemed easier not to make a fuss.' He stopped puzzled. 'Is that alright?'

She was quiet.

'Scully. You can call me Fox if you want to. If that's what you want.'

'No.' She sighed. 'Yes. I don't know. Go on. I was being silly. Tell me what happened to Ben. Then tell me how you think you know.'

'It is him then? Is that his name? Ben? The boy from Rod's case?'

'Ben Dales. It appears to be him, yes. Rod's got a forensic team up there now. They're doing a thorough site check and probably won't remove the body until tomorrow. It will be a dental and x ray records identification by the sound of it. I doubt they'll be able to do much to establish a definitive cause of death.'

'It was an accident. He fell. He was being chased and they were trying to kill him but it was an accident all the same. And Angela was killed by Lewis' friend, but that was really an accident too. There was a fight.'

'What do you mean? Lewis was the offender isn't he? The guy Rod got convicted?'

'Yeah. He kidnapped them and he was responsible for Ben's death indirectly. At best it was manslaughter, but his friend killed Angela, the girl. I mean Lewis is a nasty piece of work and he's not exactly innocent but…' Mulder stopped his mouth open.

'What?'

'Lewis. Lewis isn't guilty of murder. Innocent. Ben and Angela - innocents. Get it?' He stared up at her. He's our perp. Lewis' friend. He's the one who's been sending notes. They were lovers. He knows Lewis didn't do it, but he got put away anyway.'

'Slow down. You're saying the guy who killed Hinemoa killed Ben's friend Angela. He was Lewis' lover, so these abductions, the killing, they're what, a revenge thing?'

Mulder nodded. It all made perfect sense.

'What were the messages?'

'"Tis the season of innocents. Innocence will be lost". That was the first one.'

'The season of innocents – Christmas time, New Year. That's when they disappeared. Innocence will be lost. Well it was. They lost theirs, and their lives. Or maybe it was Lewis' innocence but he lost anyway. It fits. What was next?'

'"A time of innocents, a time of sorrow". It's pretty much the same thing.'

'Right. But then this latest one, "Lightening striking in the same place twice"?' Scully's eyes widened in horror. 'Oh god.'

'He's here,' Mulder said, his mouth suddenly dry. 'Jesus Scully.' He grabbed her, his fingers biting into his arm. 'This is the place where it will happen again.' He looked around panicked. 'Where are the boys?'


	9. Chapter 9

Bush Bay

Bush Bay

Sun 19th Dec

5pm

Mulder tried to still the panic that was gripping his heart. He was running hard but Scully was already in front of him as they left Mrs Mac's. The boys were in the bush with their father Mrs Mac had said. That was the worst possible place they could be. Rod would be engrossed in the crime scene. He wouldn't be expecting danger, he wouldn't be paying attention; no one would know anything until it was too late.

'Quick,' Scully was throwing herself into the driver's seat of Mrs Mac's ancient Mini. 'We'll go up the road to where the track starts.'

'Road?' Mulder said stupidly.

'Yes, road. Get in.'

Reluctantly he complied. As he folded himself into the passenger seat he felt a brief flare of amusement. He hadn't seen a tiny car like this since he was in England. 'There is no road.'

'What do you mean? Of course there is.' She gunned the engine into life and took off with a squirt of gravel. 'You can't have got to where you were found without crossing the road. We'll get up there quicker in the car.'

'I never crossed the road.'

'You had to. You can't have got from here to there,' she pointed, changed gear and tried to turn, all in one dangerous movement, 'without crossing the road. Maybe you forgot.'

'I'd have noticed. Fuck. Be careful.' He grabbed onto the dash to save his head from connecting with the windscreen as she hit the brakes to corner.

'How would you have noticed? You were following a ghost.'

They argued on. They both knew it was saving them from thinking the worst. Scully, Mulder noticed, had never stopped to query how he knew the background that had allowed him to put the case together and realise the boys were in danger. But she could argue about ghosts. That was safe.

They rounded a bend on two wheels and Scully suddenly stopped short, the bonnet ending inches from the back of a large four wheel drive utility. They were nearly parked underneath it. The road side was littered with vehicles, most of them of the battered and well used four wheel drive variety. One was decked out in police livery. Looking out of place was a long sleek dark coloured station wagon, its shiny paint obscured by road dust. He realised it was a hearse. This must be where the track crossed the road.

Wrenching open the aged door he fell out onto the roadway. Scully was heading up the side of the road looking for the track but Mulder had another thought. He made for the police vehicle. He tried the door. It was locked. Damn. He peered in through the window, yep, radio. 'Scully!' He raced along the line of vehicles until he found a farm truck with straw and tools scattered over its deck.

'Mulder what…?' but then she saw what he was intending and stood back.

He raised the wrench, took a deep breath and crashed it down on the passenger window of the police vehicle. It wasn't like the movies, the wrench bounced and dropped to the ground narrowly missing his foot. 'Fuck!' His whole body jarred with the impact. There was only a small star of glass missing from the window for his effort.

Scully picked the wrench up. I hope you're right, her look said and then she held the wrench directly in front of her and tapped it onto the centre of the window. The glass shattered into thousands of little cubes. Scully raised her eyes in triumph. 'It's all in the angle Mulder.'

'Smart ass. I'm surprised there's no alarm.' He reached inside for the radio mike, clicked the transmit button. The radio did nothing. 'Shit.' He found the console, flipped the on off knob, nothing. 'Fuck. It won't go.' He clicked. 'The car has to be going. The electrics have to be working. We need the key.'

Scully reached past him and unlocked the door. She brushed glass onto the floor, slid into the driver's seat, reached up under the steering wheel and felt around. Mulder stared at her. 'Do you know how to do that?'

'I used to. When I was about sixteen. I don't know about these modern computer controlled cars though. I don't think they're quite so simple.' She'd got down low and was peering up under the dash. 'I don't know. I don't think I can.' She was starting to sound panicked again. 'What about you? Can you do it?'

Mulder started around the car to have a look but common sense gave him a pinch. He had once learnt how to hot wire a car, back in the bad old days; in fact he'd actually shown Weaner and Diesel how to do it. But like Scully it wasn't a talent he'd kept up. Thinking of those guys made him sick so he tried to keep his mind on the problem of the moment. He could probably hot wire this if he had time, but time was not something they could afford to waste. Not right now.

'How far is it to the site?'

She looked up from where she was playing with a handful of wires. 'I don't know. You're the one that was there. It didn't take very long to bring you out to here though. Tom had you back at the house almost before Brad had told me they'd found you.'

'Leave it. We haven't…'

The dashboard lights flickered and the radio gave a crack.

'That's it. That one. Do it again.'

She did and the lights stayed on. He leaned over and picked up the microphone clicking it. It worked. 'Hold it,' he told her, 'stay just like that.' He suddenly froze. 'What am I going to say?'

'Just call Rod.'

He did. 'Inspector Rod Stuart, Inspector Rod Stuart or any one in his team. Are you receiving? Over.' He glanced at Scully, she nodded.

'Inspector Stuart, Inspector Stuart, I have an urgent message. Can any one hear me? Over.' He fiddled with the volume knob and the car filled with static.

He remembered some rusty radio folklore. 'Pan pan pan. Are any stations receiving over?

A female voice nearly blasted them out of the cab. 'Station calling pan please state your emergency. Over.'

Frantically Mulder turned the volume back down. He took a deep breath. 'This is Fox Mulder of the FBI with an urgent message for police Inspector Rod Stuart. I have reason to believe that he and his children are in danger. He is at a crime scene in the Marlborough Sounds. Can you get a message to him? Over.'

They were both expecting the voice to question Mulder's credentials, question the warning and at least ask what the danger was. The next sound from the radio was a great relief. 'Mulder?' It was Rod's voice. 'What's going on?'

'Thank God,' Scully muttered.

'Rod,' Mulder tried hard to keep his voice even. 'I know who your kidnap killer is. I also think he is here.' He took his finger off the transmit button while he thought through what to say next. That gave Rod a chance to ask, 'Here?'

'Yes sir. Here in Bush Bay or somewhere close.' There was no time for long winded explanations. 'Sir, where are the boys?'

The radio was silent. They both tried to picture what was happening at the other end. It seemed an eternity before it crackled back to life. 'Mulder, where are you?'

'Scully and I are in the police vehicle at the foot of the track. I'm afraid we had to break in to use the radio.'

'Good.' The fact that there was no admonition was a bad sign. 'Brad is on his way back down. He was hungry. He left here about twenty minutes ago so he should be nearly on you now. We're unsure…' there was a long pause. 'Davy isn't here. He's probably with Brad. Call me back when you see them.'

'Affirmative.'

Two minutes stretched to eternity. Suddenly with no warning Brad appeared from the undergrowth. He was alone.

The track was much easier to follow today; a blind man couldn't miss it. A legion of policemen and associated extras armed with machetes had slashed and hacked their way through the undergrowth. They'd improved navigation of the path, what they hadn't done was make it easier to run along.

Mulder wasn't convinced that it was the same path he'd followed Rangitu into the forest on yesterday. He couldn't for the life of him work out how he could have crossed the road without noticing, and if he hadn't crossed the road then it couldn't be the same path.

It didn't really matter. It was slippery with the rain and all the feet along it since the morning. And it was steeply up hill. They were running all three of them, praying that any moment they would spot Davy trotting down the track towards them.

After a very short time Mulder was out of breath. He was shit scared and adrenaline helped but he just couldn't force his body up that hill any faster. His head was starting to pound and his legs to tremble as he tried to force air into his lungs. Some time yesterday he's taken quite a bit of skin off his knee and now the scab was tearing every time he bent his leg. He was hauling himself forward with his hand, grabbing trees and vines to pull himself up the slope. At least this time he had the sling to give his arm a little protection. Jesus Davy, he prayed, be alright. Please Davy, he panted in time with his steps. Please Davy, be walking down. God Davy, don't let me be too late.

Visions of Davy's brown eyed, toothy grin swam in front of him and kept him going. He's okay. He tried to reassure himself. In spite of a life time of bad happening, or maybe because of that he forced himself to think of the positive until proven otherwise. It tore him in two sometimes as his conscious warred with his unconscious pessimism but it was an ingrained habit to try and find the likely positive outcome to what appeared to be a bad situation. So he kept believing Samantha was alive and waiting to be found and now he worked hard to believe that Davy was just mislaid. If he'd had the breath he'd have said it out loud to try and reassure Scully. Davy is okay. He ran it through his head anyway and saved all his breath for keeping moving. Maybe he's back at the site and Rod just missed seeing him. Maybe he decided to leave after Brad and we'll meet him any second. Maybe he went off somewhere to look at something else. Or he needed to pee, yes that could have happened. We'll get there and he'll be fine.

'Oww!' Mulder grabbed at a vine and it swung loose. He fell back, skidding in the mud. The whippy stump of a small tree caught the back of his calf and dug in bringing a painful halt to his slide. He fell to his painful knees, his hand reaching for his leg gasping for breath. Scully slid back down to him.

'I'm okay.' Cautiously he removed his hand. 'Look,' he was amazed. 'No blood, see.' The stick had bent, causing what would be a nasty bruise but it hadn't broken the skin. He swallowed down air, willing the effects of exertion to subside. He was nauseous, close to being sick and his body was trembling. He hoped Scully couldn't see. With a sigh he flopped over to sit on the wet ground. 'I'm okay. I am really. But I can't do this.' It was an admission that would have killed him at any other time but now Davy was all he could think of. He lifted his head to look at her. 'You go.' He could read everything behind her assessing look. 'Go. Take Brad. Get up there and find him. I'll be right behind you.' He took a couple more deep breaths. 'I'll just be a little slower.'

'Okay.' She gave a crisp nod. 'I'm sure he's fine. It's no use you…' Her smile was twisted, she didn't believe it herself. 'Just come straight up the path. Don't do anything stupid. Okay.'

'Promise,' Mulder said. 'Go.'

Mulder was starting to get worried that he wouldn't make it up the hill. He'd felt like this once before. He'd been on a really nasty profiling case, hadn't slept, hadn't managed to eat for something like ten days. He'd gone running, trying to loose the demons in the pain of pushing his body. It had worked, too successfully. He'd pushed through the pain barrier, riding the endorphins, ignoring the occasional tremors that warned him of impending collapse until he'd suddenly hit it. It was as if he'd crashed straight into an invisible wall. He'd gone down, lying there twitching, near paralysed in the middle of the road. He'd been damn lucky he hadn't gotten himself run over.

They told him at the hospital that he'd exhausted his body's ability to keep anything other than his vital organs functioning; and they'd been getting close to shut down too.

He'd felt then like he did now.

Forcing himself to kept putting one foot in front of the other he slogged up the hill. He really should not have gone for that swim. He shouldn't have gone off on a wild ghost hunt yesterday. Hell while he'd been having his angst fest yesterday the perp had been up here somewhere planning his attack. Mulder had created the perfect scenario for a snatch by creating confusion and causing all the adults to be distracted. Guilt and exhaustion was weighing heavily on him. His heart was labouring so heavily he was scared he was going to have a heart attack. It was so hard to hear anything other than the blood pounding in his ears that is was a little while before he registered that he could hear voices. He could hear the police team. He was nearly there.

Stumbling into the fern cathedral he saw chaos. There were about a dozen people in the area and at least nine of them were moving around in circles. In the centre of the maelstrom, still and purposeful were Rod, Brad and Scully. Rod held his son close to him. He looked distinctly out of place wearing tie and dress shirt in the forest, Scully, so pretty, in floral shirt and shorts. It was disconcerting.

A whoof of wings close to his head startled him. He lost his balance and found himself, once again, sitting down. The pigeon crashed onto the top of a small tree and regarded him, its head cocked, as if it couldn't believe that something so useless should be in its forest.

'Mulder.'

He looked up at Scully. She looked strange, pale. Her voice was soft, diminished somehow. It was like it had been after that fur ball dog got eaten. It was the voice that brought it home. It was true. Davy wasn't here. Everything wasn't all right. He wasn't going to get in trouble for breaking the window of a police car because he'd been right and Davy had been taken.

Scully sat down next to him on the damp fern fronds. 'No one saw anything. We've all searched the area,' she indicated the clear area under the tree ferns, 'and there is no sign of anything. He could have taken him in any direction, the undergrowth is just too thick to tell.' She sighed and leaned in against him so he lifted a trembly arm and put it around her shoulders. 'There's a dog team on their way but it will be at least 2 hours before they can get them here.'

Mulder forced his mind to focus, to ignore the crappy state his body was in. He had to do what he did so well, and he had to do it now. Even so he appreciated Scully's warm body next to his. He took a moment to enjoy it and hold the worst thoughts at bay.

'Okay.' He took a deep breath, 'to start with the undergrowth is too thick. It is impenetrable and he couldn't have gotten through it easily. If he did it would show. We need to look for places where he could have come through. It's possible that he didn't take him here either, Davy may well have been heading back down the track like everyone thought. So we need that checked either side too.' Mulder looked up and realised Rod and most of the team were crouched down listening to him. Rod's face although pale was stony, professional, and once again he was reminded of Skinner. The only give away to his emotions was the tight grasp he kept on Brad's hand.

'We're going to need more people, I assume the search teams that went looking for me can be contacted again. What's the chances of spotting anything from the air?' He looked at the tight canopy above him. 'Okay it's probably not a lot but it's worth a try.

'Just thinking, he's a friend of Lewis'. Lewis lived on a sailboat. Right?'

Rod nodded.

'Well he may have another boat. If he's fit Davy wouldn't be too hard to carry. He could be heading down the hill to the bay. Hell he could be going over the hill to where he and Lewis dumped Amanda in the sea,' Mulder missed the shocked looks of the police officers around him, 'so get someone looking over there too.' He looked around at the assembled people. He looked directly at Rod. 'We've got a good chance. He's only an hour ahead of us at the most. All we have to do is figure out which way he went.' He meant that to be encouraging but looking around at the dense forest, somehow it wasn't.

Something was wrong with his hearing aids. That was the first muzzy thought in Davy's brain. His hearing aids were so important, so expensive and so special that he noticed something wrong with them before he registered even the headache, the sick feeling in his stomach or the nasty metallic taste in his mouth. The left aid felt totally wrong, maybe even missing, the right one was sitting in the wrong place in his ear and it hurt. He went to reach a hand to fix it and his hand wouldn't move. It was that that brought him suddenly and frighteningly awake. Only he couldn't be awake because he was having a nightmare.

If it was a nightmare it was painfully real. He was lying on the ground on his side in a rough shed with his hands tied behind his back. There was a funny sweet smell in the air. His feet were tied up too. It wasn't like when that sort of thing happened in the movies because it really hurt to have his arms like that. He squirmed a little and that made him fall backwards, then his weight was fully on his arms and it really hurt! He cried out and vaguely wondered why that didn't wake him up. He wriggled but couldn't figure out how to get off his arms that were pulling out of his shoulder joints. He didn't think he'd be able to even sit up let alone find something rough to rub the rope on to get free. Frustrated he managed to wriggle back onto his side, which was slightly better. He reminded himself that life wasn't like television, not really.

Suddenly the fear flooded back in. He thought of the kidnapper that Dad was trying to find. He whimpered. Hinemoa was dead. Davy remembered Hinemoa. He'd never told Dad, somehow there had never been a chance, but he'd met her at the winter Baden Powell camp when the Brownie Guides had come camping with his Cub Scout Pack. Davy suddenly remembered why the pictures of the other girl Charlotte looked familiar, he thought she might have been there too. That thought made Davy very scared, in spite of his attempt to be tough he started to cry.

The shed was made of odd bits of wood and tin sheets and suddenly one bit of tin lifted up and a man climbed in under it. He walked quickly to stand over Davy. Davy stared at him in disbelief and horror. He knew this was a nightmare now. This couldn't be real. He started to scream. His mind flooded with fear. How could it be? This was the face that had haunted his bad dreams for the last three years.

The man bent down, brought his face closer and shoved his hand over Davy's mouth. Davy's body went slack with horror. He stared up into the face of the man who was responsible for pain and nightmares and everything that was wrong and different in his life - his accident, for his deafness. The man's face grimaced into an ugly smile, he recognised Davy too. The man standing above him was the driver of the car that had knocked him off his bike three years ago. Until now Davy had only remembered his face in his nightmares. Now he remembered that as the car drove at him that day the driver had been laughing.

Scully thanked the young man and carrying the small package made her way back to where Mulder was huddled, his head on his knees. She touched him gently on the shoulder. 'Here.' He looked up startled, his eyes momentarily vague. He was in even worse shape than she'd thought. Hell, they didn't have manpower to spare to carry him back down the hill. She'd have to get him on his feet.

She held out the bag. 'I got you some food.' She gave a wry grin. 'It's the undertaker's lunch. He's newly married and his wife always gives him more than he can eat. He was quite happy to share. Here,' she pulled out a carton of juice. 'At least drink this. You need some calories.' Deftly she removed the straw from its wrapping and poked it through the foil covered hole on top of the carton.

Mulder took the carton without comment, sipped, rolled the juice around his mouth then sucked enthusiastically. Moments later he hit the bottom with a noisy slurp. 'Good,' he mumbled. 'What's next?' He reached for the bag and dived in. 'Oo look Scully, egg salad sandwiches. Want one?'

She shook her head, suppressed a shudder. Food was the last thing she wanted. 'No thanks.'

Mulder shrugged. 'Me neither.'

'You have to eat something.'

'I know. I'm not totally unaware of my…' His voice trailed off as his eyes fixed on something behind her.

'What?' She glanced over her shoulder but could see nothing except trees and the cliff. 'Mulder?' He was struggling to his feet, the lunch bag forgotten. 'What is it?'

'The cliff, over there.' He spun around. 'This path. This isn't the way I came.' He spun back to face her, pointing to his left. 'Yesterday I came up there. There's another path. We came that way.' Scully raced after him as he stumbled through the leaf litter. 'Help me find it. He's gone that way. I know.'

'Mulder,' she reached for him and caught his hand. He was on a tear and she wasn't sure whether she should stop him or not. She wasn't sure if this wasn't just another ghost like delusion. 'At least eat this muffin. Come on,' she placed it in his hand. Hadn't his instincts been right so far? 'You can eat while we look.'

Mulder was questing too and fro like a hunting dog. He'd made a bee line for the tarpaulin covering the now forgotten body then took a sharp left along the base of the cliff. Scully followed, pleased to see that he was absently breaking off pieces of muffin and eating them as he went. He came to the end of the tree ferns and eyed the tangle of cutty grass and small shrubs that grew away from their shadows.

'We came up from here, I know.' He turned and peered up at the cliff trying to marry his memory with what he was seeing. He muttered, 'This way a bit,' and slowly paced along the edge of the clearing. Scully scanned the vegetation. She couldn't see any break that would let a man through. She turned as movement caught her eye back by the track. Tom and his team of helpers had just arrived. When she turned back to the bush Mulder he was gone.

'Mulder!' Her voice held the edge of panic. Jesus! Her heart was fluttering. Where had he gone? Not him too. 'Mulder!!'

'Scully, here.' His head popped out of the greenery. 'The other track is over here.' He didn't seem to notice her distress. 'I can't believe I couldn't find this yesterday. Come on.' He didn't wait but turned, ducked under a fallen branch and disappeared from sight.

It did cross Scully's mind that she should let someone know what they were doing. But if she'd stopped to do that she'd have lost him.

Davy was backed into the corner of the shed. He was as far away from his captor as it was possible to get in its cramped surrounds. The man was in the opposite corner perched on the edge of a really old looking stretcher. Davy could see tatters of canvas hanging underneath. It didn't look as if it would be possible to lie down on it and yet the hut looked as if someone had been living in it for a few days at least. On a box in the corner he had a makeshift kitchen set up with a wash basin and a camp gas cooker. He had tins of baked beans, a jar of marmite and about a dozen packets of jelly crystals in a range of flavours. It seemed a strange combination of supplies. It didn't look like much to live on to Davy.

The man had just finished trimming his dirty toenails with a pocket knife and it wouldn't have surprised Davy if he'd thrown the clippings into the billy can simmering on the little stove. He was dirty and he smelt and his white feet looked ugly and soft. Something about them made Davy feel sick. He watched as the man started pulling his boots back on. It crossed Davy's mind that now would be a good moment to attack, while the man was occupied and barefoot. Only he wasn't in any position to attack as his hands were still tied and he was about as useful as an action man doll.

The man looked across and caught his eye. 'What you looking at huh?'

'Nothing,' Davy muttered and hung his head.

'Yeah well don't you go thinkin you can do what you want cause you can't. I'm the boss now and I can do what I want to you. Your fancy high and mighty policeman father can't do nuttin to save you.' He finished lacing his boots and stood up. He marched over to Davy and stood over him. Davy kept looking at the ground. 'I'm going to give him a day to get nice and stewed up. Then I'm gonna to let him think he can do something to save you.' He tossed his head back and gave a manic chuckle. 'Then I'm gonna to show him that he can't. What do ya think of that kid? Huh?' He bent down and jerked Davy's chin up. 'I said what did you think of that?'

The look of fright Davy gave him was sufficient to satisfy him. What he didn't realise was that Davy hadn't been looking at him and he couldn't hear him. Davy had no idea what he had just said; he was just plain frightened. He settled back on his heels and surveyed his captive.

'You're a pretty boy aren't you.' He gave his groin a rub and licked his lips. He tipped his head to one side and raised Davy's chin so he was looking at him again. 'You want to have a bit of fun while we're waiting for these beans?'

Davy swallowed and tried to hold his gaze. He had no idea what the man was talking about.

His captor ran his finger down his cheek. 'Smooth.'

He flinched away. 'Don't.'

The guy grabbed his collar and pulled him closer, on his knees in front of him. He grabbed his head and tried to push it into his groin but Davy fought. He wasn't having that. There was no way he was putting his head somewhere that nasty and smelly. 'No!' he yelled. He was pushed harder and had no purchase and no way of holding back except to wriggle. If he could have bit the bastard he would have but no limbs got in the way of his mouth. He kept screaming.

Suddenly he was rammed head first into the dirt, his mouth and nose filling with it, a heavy weight coming down across his back. He lay still, winded as the body above him twisted, then suddenly went limp. His captor toppled forward, across Davy, covering him completely. He didn't move. Startled Davy froze but the man didn't even twitch. Davy fought to get his nose away from the dirt, weighed down as he was by the man on top of him. He turned his head coughing and saw blood. He stared. A bright red pool was forming beside the man's head. There could be no question his kidnapper was dead.

Then he saw something else. Beyond the red of the blood was a different red, the red of tomato sauce. And just beyond the spilt baked beans was a flickering of orange. The flame from the fallen cooker was licking at the torn canvas of the stretcher. Davy couldn't see anything else from underneath the body but he knew he was in trouble. He couldn't move. He started to scream.

Mulder pulled up short, blinking to clear his vision. God dammit! He'd been following Rangitu and Rangitu was gone. Fuck. He reached for a tree, hanging on and trying to catch his breath, aware of Scully right behind him. The wooshing of his own blood filled his ears. Scully was speaking but he couldn't hear what she said.

The brown haze in front of his eyes slowly lifted and he looked back to see that she wasn't looking at him at all. She was looking around, at full alert. Puzzled Mulder swept his gaze around the surrounding bush and slowly saw what it was that Scully saw.

He let out a low whistle.

She held her finger to her lips. He didn't need telling. In awe he slowly took in the sight of the bush that wasn't. Sure the canopy trees were there, from above this part of the forest would look exactly the same as the rest of it, but all the undergrowth had been removed and something else grew in its place. The forest floor had been set out in cultivated plots. The plants in those plots were lush and green and different plots showed different stages of growth with some of the plants reaching nearly eight foot in height. Mulder and Scully were standing in the middle of the largest cannabis plantation either of them had ever seen.

Without speaking they somehow knew they were in the right place. Somewhere here, in amongst all of this, they would find where Davy was being held.

As quietly as he could Mulder started back down the narrow path. His only excuse for what happened next was that he was too exhausted to be thinking straight. Several things happened simultaneously. Scully called out "Mulder!" and plucked at his sleeve, his foot caught on something and he fell forward and there was suddenly a tremendous and shocking bang.

Mulder sat up slowly, testing his body for injuries, disbelieving when he found none. Deafened and dazed by the shotgun blast he finally looked at Scully who was lying face down on the ground a few feet away. For a sickening moment his world lurched and he froze in place unable to move. God no! No, no, no. Not Scully. 'Nooo…' Then he was moving, crawling to her. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The phrase rolled around in his head. Booby traps, booby traps. It is a cannabis plantation, of course there are booby traps. Scully, Scully. Be alright Scully.

'Scully.' Tentatively he reached for her and she groaned.

He swallowed a gasp of relief. 'Don't move Scully. Just lie still. Are you hurt? Are you okay?' He ran a hand down her back. 'Can you feel me?' He couldn't see any blood. Jesus where was she hurt? 'Do you hurt anywhere Scully? Don't try and move. God I'm so sorry. You'll be okay. Just don't try and move.'

Scully moaned again. 'Mulder. Get me up.'

'Are you hurt?'

She rolled slightly and gave a gasp. 'Oww. Shut up Mulder. Don't start blathering again.' She turned onto her back clutching her left arm.

'Scully…'

She hissed at him. 'I said shut it! Help me up.'

Awkwardly he tried. First she sat and then shakily got to her feet. She still held on to her arm. Mulder held on to her. He hovered, his eyes wide with concern but he kept his mouth shut. Slowly the realisation sank in that she was not seriously hurt; a sprain or at worst a break. Either way she would be fine. Somehow they had both managed to avoid so much as a single pellet from a point blank blast of a booby trapped shot gun. The gun in question hung from a complicated tangle of fishing twine right beside his shoulder. Another piece of green line ran across the path, literarily the trip wire. If it hadn't tripped him… If it had just triggered the gun… He gulped and looked at Scully to see she was thinking the same.

With that his other senses kicked back in. They were looking for Davy and his kidnapper. If there was anyone around they would be well aware of their presence by now. The shotgun had made sure of that. They had totally lost any advantage of surprise. And, if there was one booby trap set there would be more.

'Which way?' he asked quietly. 'We can't use the path.'

Scully was standing very still. 'Listen.'

He shook his head. 'I can't…' The blast had upset his hearing. Shaking his head didn't help. 'What?'

Scully dived into the marijuana bushes and started running. 'Scully be careful.' But she wasn't listening. And then he heard it too, a high pitched scream of pure terror.

They burst out of the rows of head high plants to see right in front of them a small shed. It was small; a six foot cube, and flimsily built of corrugated iron. Sometime in the past it had been camouflaged with fern fronds and other greenery. They were long since dry now and horrifyingly engulfed in swirling flames.

Mulder stood, rooted to the spot with panic as Scully raced to circle the building, trying to see inside. The flames were eating up the dry ferns and running out of fuel on the outside but the inside seemed to contain a mass of fire. Mulder's worst fear was fire, his mind flashed with visions of flames and massacres and people running screaming as their huts burnt around them. He saw warriors with spears attacking and Rangitu and his weapon flashing just out of sight, holding the attackers at bay as he tried to reach the burning hut where his mother was held captive. He fell slain, and the hut collapsed in a shower of sparks.

Just then Scully reappeared and the screaming started again. The battle was gone but the horror remained. It was definitely Davy screaming and he was definitely inside the burning structure. This hut still stood. In the here and now there was time to do something and Mulder did it.

With a blood curdling yell he ran at the burning shack, smacking into it with his full body weight. The impetus of his run caused the whole flimsy structure to topple sideways collapsing in on itself as it did. There was a flash of flame and then the heat dissipated and the fire was scattered.

Mulder sprawled on the dirt. His body took a shocked moment to work out what had happened and then it started to hurt. His eyebrows and fringe were singed. His shoulder that had taken the impact hurt like hell and he'd landed on his sore arm. For several minutes all he could register was pain. He lay there on what had once been the floor as the timbers settled beside him and a few small fires glowed cheerily from under the piles of tin.

Scully was beside him, gave him a brief check and then she was frantically scrabbling at what he slowly realised was a body. He'd taken it for a pile of debris but now he could see it had been a man. The clothing was burnt and the skin underneath blackened and disgusting. Davy was no where to be seen. And then he was there, wriggling out from under the burnt corpse as Scully shifted it. Crawling out crying and dirty and in shock but not hurt, not burnt and very much alive.

Scully clutched at him, infolding him in her arms and sobbing with relief.

Mulder's breathing slowly levelled out but his limbs were shaking. He watched Scully and Davy and relief washed through him. He'd saved him. This child was safe. A sob choked from him. He couldn't do any more. Now that they were safe he could give in. The trembling enveloped his whole body, he couldn't move. But it was okay. There was nothing to be done any more. It was all over. He closed his eyes. He could finally rest.

Bush Bay

Tues 21st Dec

(2 days later)

'Dana.'

Scully looked up from her book as she heard her name called softly. She blinked. She'd nearly been asleep. 'Dana.' She heard it again and now she could see Paula beckoning from the terrace of the A Frame cottage. She held a coffee mug in her hand. Scully smiled. Just what she needed.

Carefully she disentangled herself from Mulder's limbs and climbed off the sunlounger. Sunloungers weren't really built for two but they'd managed it. She pulled the rug up over his shoulders it was cooler today. He slept on. She gazed at him for a minute. His missing eyebrows made him look decidedly odd. The burns to his forehead and chin were fairly superficial and were healing well. The pain seemed to have eased today as well, thank god.

Scully made her way around an old hedge and over to the A Frame. Brad was sitting in the row boat just out from the jetty. She could see two fishing rods and he seemed to be in the process of throwing out another line. She waved at him and wondered what he'd do it he caught three fish at once.

'Hi ya,' Paula said, as she slid into a deck chair. She handed over a mug.

Scully sniffed appreciatively then took a sip. 'Perfect,' she smiled.

Paula smiled back. 'How's your arm.' She looked at the bandage on Scully's wrist.

'It's fine.' She moved her hand up and down. 'The swelling has nearly gone. I don't even really need the bandage. It just reminds me to be careful.' They sat in a companionable silence for a while, sipping and watching Brad. Yesterday had been so hot it was nice to be able to sit outside without searching for the shade.

'How's sleeping beauty doing,' Paula asked eventually.

Scully grinned. 'Not bad considering. Last night I thought the trip back had undone any good he'd had from the night in hospital. I had to dope him to the eyeballs for travel sickness, but today he's okay. He just needs all the things he's needed all week. You know, good food, lots of rest…'

'Tender loving care?'

'Yeah,' Scully laughed. 'That too.'

'Have you two sorted things out then?'

'We've got a lot of sorting out to do but I think we've decided to sort it out together.'

Paula smiled. 'That's good. I'm so sorry Rod couldn't organise the helicopter to bring you back yesterday.'

'Oh no. Paula I didn't mean that.' Scully was dismayed. 'Rod has done so much, if it hadn't been for him we'd have had to use the bus and that would have been hell. No don't think I meant that. Rod did everything he could.'

'Dana I don't…' Paula stopped. She swallowed hard and looked at Scully with utmost sincerity. 'Dana. Nothing would be too much. We can never do enough for you. We owe you our son.'

Scully reached for Paula. The women clasped hands, held tight. Both fought the lump in their throats and all the things left unspoken. The moment and the intense emotions passed.

'How is Davy?' Scully asked when she had control of her voice again.

'Okay.' Paula said huskily. 'He's doing alright. He's a bit fragile, a bit clingy, but he slept alright last night and he's bright enough today.'

'Where is he?'

Paula smiled fondly. 'He's up making pikelets with Mrs Mac. She knew just what he needed. Food always works wonders on my kids.'

'Mrs Mac's great.'

'Mmm. She is. Do you know, we discovered we're related? Apparently we share a mutual great great grandmother or something. Small world isn't it.' She gazed out into the bay at Brad and his boat. 'Brad's doing okay too. He's so protective he's driving Davy nuts. I had to send him off on his own for a while. He's supposed to be producing dinner.'

'I'm a little surprised you decided to stay.'

'You decided it was worth the effort to come back yesterday.' Paula countered.

'Yes we did. It's a beautiful place. It's a good place to recover.'

'Exactly. We have so many happy memories here. If we'd left on Sunday then in a way Mark Jessop would have won. The only things we would remember about Bush Bay would be what he had done. We didn't want that. Staying here won't make those memories go away but we can layer nice memories on top and in the end the bad ones won't be so sharp. They won't hurt as much.'

'You're very brave.'

'Yeah.'

They sat in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts.

'Top up?' Paula asked.

'Please.'

'How's the investigation going?' Scully asked when she came back with full mugs. 'Does Rod know what it was all about yet?'

'They're working it out. He was telling me last night that they've done the autopsies. He's going to need an anthropologist to look at Ben, he's been there too long for anything much to show up but they got a match with the dental records anyway. At least that's one mystery solved. That's one benefit of staying here. We've got a base that Rod can commute from while he ties this up.'

'So what have they got on Jessop?'

Paula had a strange look on her face and Scully could guess what was coming. 'He died before the fire. The cause of death was…'

'Something to do with someone taking the top of his head off with a sharp blade?' Scully had had plenty of time to study that wound while she had waited for help to arrive.

'Right.'

'What did they say about the weapon?'

'It could have been a mere.'

'That Maori club thing?'

Paula nodded. 'Or it could have been an axe.'

'Right. And the murder weapon hasn't been found?'

'Nope. No murderer either. At least no one has suggested that Davy killed him.'

Scully gulped. 'I never thought of that. He wouldn't have been strong enough to start with. And besides he couldn't have could he since we found him under the body.' She sighed. 'Mulder's going to love it. He's already decided that the ghost did it. The ghost apparently lead us to the hut.'

'Well Davy never saw a thing. One minute he was being man handled…' Paula stopped as she fought with the images that created.

'Hey. We don't have to talk about this.'

'No. It's okay. I want to talk about it. I need to work it out and work through it. I have to be strong for the kids, but sometimes I just don't feel that strong. And besides,' she forced a smile, 'we owe you so much. You have a right to know.

'You know it appears that Davy was the target all along. It was a revenge thing. Rod thinks Jessop wanted to get at him because he put away his lover Lewis. Remember, the guy he sent down for the murder of Ben and his girlfriend? Jessop of course knew that Lewis was innocent of murder, even if he wasn't innocent of things like kidnap and rape.

'He'd found out all sorts of stuff about Rod and us.' She shuddered. 'It's creepy. They've found files on us in his car. You know there was a tie between those two girls. Davy actually knew them, he'd just never had a chance to tell us.'

Scully gaped at her.

'It's true. They were all at a camp last year. Jessop must have been there too.'

Scully worked through the implications. 'That makes things much more complicated. He must have worked really hard to abduct those girls. Much more so than if they were random victims.'

'Oh it's complicated all right. And it gets even more so. We have no way of proving it, but Davy swears and I believe him, that Jessop is the man who knocked him off his bike two years ago.' She nodded in response to Scully's gasp and carried on. 'It gets worse.

'I know it was him because… God it makes me sick. He came to see us in the hospital. He said he'd been one of the first on the scene and he wanted to know how Davy was. I remember him. He brought a teddy bear. He seemed genuine. I remember thinking how nice it was that he would come.' Paula flapped her hands in distress. 'I can't believe…'

'But why?' Scully asked.

'Why what?' another voice asked from the grass below them.

Paula shrieked. 'God Fox, you scared me.'

'I'm sorry.' Mulder slowly climbed the stairs and gave her shoulder an awkward pat. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

Paula took his hand and pulled him around to face her. 'It's alright. My nerves are shot. How are you Fox?' She touched his cheek gently. 'Does your face hurt? That looks sore.'

'It was but it's a lot better now,' he replied. 'Thank you.'

Paula wasn't sure about that. He didn't look like he felt better than anything. He looked nearly as bad as he had the day he'd collapsed on her doorstep. Physically he was as much a mess, if not more so than he had been then. But there was a difference and it took her a moment to work it out. Last week he'd seemed tormented, deeply unhappy in some way. Today he was content.

Why what?' he asked again as he slumped into a chair and snatched Scully's mug from her grasp.

'Hey.' But she didn't try and take it back. 'Why did Jessop run Davy over?'

'Simple,' he said without looking up from the cup. 'It was supposed to divert Rod from the Lewis case. Right?' He gulped at the coffee as if he were afraid Scully would stop him drinking it.

'Well it worked,' Paula said. She was feeling fragile. She was pleased these two were here, it would be really hard to be alone right now. 'But police work isn't like that as you know and the rest of the team got their man.'

'And now the right man's got his,' Mulder said dryly.

'But what is going to happen about the fact that Lewis didn't actually kill anyone? I know he wasn't exactly innocent but still…' Now Scully snatched her mug back. She peered into it. 'Mulder go get me some more.'

Paula growled. 'I asked Rod that. He said that Mulder's dreams not withstanding,' she nodded at him, 'and even with the discovery of Ben's body, with Jessop dead there were no witnesses. There is no way of knowing one way or the other. He said it wasn't worth all the expense and hoopla of a new trial. He said, and I quote,' she put on her Rod voice, '"He's a fucking perverted toe rag who deserves everything he gets. His case is closed. Let him rot!"' Paula shrugged. 'Or something like that.' Her eyes filled with tears. 'God my poor baby.'

Scully moved around the table and gave her a hug. Paula sniffed and tried to pull herself together. 'I'm sorry. We're so lucky really. Davy's alive. So he was hurt once, he survived. He got kidnapped and frightened but we got him back. God it seems so much to happen to my little boy.' Her voice hitched. 'My baby is deaf!' She shut her eyes a moment in pain. 'That's so much better than what poor Hinemoa's family have got. We'll be having a hell of a lot better Christmas than they will.' She blew her nose and swallowed. 'Fox when you get that coffee can you bring out the blue cake tin? It's one of my Mum's chocolate cakes. I think I need it.'

Mulder took longer inside pouring coffee than the job required. He could feel Paula's pain so keenly. She was doing well at dealing with what had happened but it was so hard on parents when bad things happened to their children. He'd never been good at keeping his own experiences out of these sorts of situations. This time too he was much more closely involved than was usually the case. He was so worn down he was having a hard time holding himself together.

He finally came back with the tin and two mugs perched precariously on top. Scully had to grab at them to save him dropping the lot. 'Paula,' he started, 'I'm so sorry about what happened. I just wish…'

But Scully knew where that sentence was going and she wasn't letting him say it. 'You wish you could carry two coffee cups at once?'

Mulder looked at her in surprise and then realised what she was doing. Paula had had enough of this conversation. It was time to get away from the subject. 'I wish I could scratch my ass with my left hand.' It was the first thing that came into his head.

'Mulder!'

'Oh gross!'

But they were all laughing. It was only later that Mulder realised that Scully had also been deflecting his guilt.

Bush Bay Jetty

9.30 pm

'We should be thinking about going in soon Mulder. It's getting cold.'

'Are you cold Scully? I'm sorry…'

'No, I'm fine.' He could hear the smile in her voice. 'I was thinking about you. You can't afford to catch cold.'

Mulder looked down at the dark water just below his dangling toes and laughed. 'Scully you are a medical doctor. You know you can't catch infections from cold air.'

'I didn't say a cold, I said cold, as in chilled. And I know that in my head. But here,' she touched her heart, 'I still believe everything my grandmother told me. If you sit on cold concrete you'll get a chill in your kidneys and heavens knows what will happen to you then.' She was laughing. 'Even if you can't catch anything you, Fox Mulder, still can't afford to get cold. You haven't got any meat on your bones.' She gave them a poke to prove it.

He caught her hand and tucked it under his arm. 'It's not for want of you trying. Those were enormous steaks you cooked tonight.' He obviously wasn't dissatisfied with the meal. He pulled her closer and they sat quietly together. 'Let's stay a little longer. It's lovely out here now. The stars are coming out.'

'Do you remember telling me once how dark it got at night.'

'Oh yeah. That was right before you told me I was like Ahab in Moby Dick, always following my quest.'

'That was just after you sunk our boat.'

'Yeah. Trust you to remember that bit.'

A shag floated past the end of the jetty then suddenly dived with a silvery streak. It reappeared an impossible time later but whether or not it had caught anything it was now too dark to see.

'Do you still see me like that?'

'Like Ahab?'

'Mmm.' Mulder found his throat suddenly thick. He remembered the end of that conversation when he'd told her that maybe it would have been easier to go through life with a wooden leg, a physical disability rather than with the burdens he carried. God. He thought of Davy. What a crappy thing to say.

'I'm not sure Mulder. It's not just your quest any more. We're in it together. Aren't we?' Her hand tightened in his. Mulder found he couldn't speak. 'Whatever your motivations for working with me. God Mulder, we have so much to work out. I can't get away from… Jesus.' Scully was flustered but she still kept a tight grip on his hand. 'We are in this together Mulder. All of this.' She indicated the world with her free hand. 'I want you Mulder. I want us. Always. Together.'

He finally found his voice. 'Till death do us part.'

'Yes,' she said turning to face him, her hair glowing in the last of the light. 'Exactly. That's exactly what I want.'

His hand came up and caressed her cheek. He pulled her into a kiss. As darkness fell completely they made their way back to their cottage wrapped in each other's arms. Hidden in the shadows a darker shadow watched them go. 'Kapai,' he whispered to himself. Good.

Epilogue

Hegal Place

Washington DC

May 6th 2000

The tall man walking along the sidewalk was turning heads. Casually dressed and carrying a package he was looking around with interest. He should not have seemed out of place and yet somehow he did. He was tall and had dark skin of a hue not often seen in the capital but that wasn't what made him stand out. What was different was the aura of power that hung over him. Other walkers tended to give him space. There was no danger that this man would be mugged.

Checking a piece of paper he eyed an apartment building, hefted his bundle and entered the lobby, openly curious. He took in the worn patches on the floor, the mailboxes and the elevator. With a shrug he pressed the up button. This wasn't his idea of a home.

On the fourth floor the stranger came to a stop outside a door with the number stuck on lopsided. He stood for a moment holding his box in both hands. Then he did something strange, he lowered his head and rested his forehead on the box. After a still moment he stood up, took a breath and knocked on the door.

If the man who knocked on the door thought the man who opened it looked a little like a hobbit he kept a straight face and didn't mention it. Frohike however found the large exotic stranger totally fascinating. He stared.

'Ahh.' The stranger broke the silence. 'I'm looking for Mr Fox Mulder.'

'You're not the dude with the flowers?' The little man peered out into the corridor as if the other man might be hiding someone.

'No.'

'No.'

'Is Mr Mulder here?'

'Who's calling?'

'Oh, pardon me.' The big man took a card out of his pocket and handed it over. 'My name is Pita McIlhenney. I have something to deliver to Mr Mulder. I'm afraid I have to hand it over personally.'

Frohike was discomforted by what he saw on the card. 'You're a judge, from New Zealand? Has this got something to do with what happened to Mulder?' His curiosity was winning out over his reluctance to have anything to do with officers of the law. Mulder's holiday ghost story had entertained them all.

'In a way. Could I speak to Mr Mulder please.'

'Ahh. In a minute. He's puking his guts up at the moment. He's been doing it all day. He'll be out soon.' Frohike realised this was probably too much information. 'He's getting married today,' he hurried on. 'It's nerves.' He stuck his head out for another look down the hall. Just at then the lift dinged and moments later Langley carrying a tray of button hole carnations was doing an awkward two step around the visitor to get in the door.

'May I come in?' McIlhenney asked soberly. 'I'm sorry to intrude at this time but my time here in Washington is limited. I really need to give this to Mr Mulder today.'

'Give me what?'

McIlhenney took in the sight of the man wearing dress pants and nothing else. He noted the pallor and the shaving cut on his neck and gave an inward smile. It might be nearly forty years ago but he remembered his own wedding day too well. 'Mr Mulder, forgive me.' He moved forward into the light and saw the other man's eyes widen with shock.

'Holy shit!' Mulder took a step back.

Ahh. Now McIlhenney did smile. He understood. This was the right man after all. 'It's all right,' he said holding out his hand. 'I'm not him.' He indicated his face. 'No tattoos see. I understand I am taller than my ancestor too.'

'Yes.' Mulder was still staring. He blinked. 'Sorry.' He sat down hurriedly on the sofa. 'I'm sorry,' he said, trying to pull himself together. 'You're not Rangitu. Who are you? What are you doing here?'

'No I am sorry. Sorry to frighten you and sorry to intrude. I won't take long. My name is Pita McIlhenney. You know my brother Tom. May I sit down?'

'The judge.' Mulder waved him into the seat opposite as his overwrought brain made the connections. 'What brings you to Washington sir?' Frohike was hovering beside Mulder with a crisp white shirt and reluctantly Mulder allowed him to pull it up his arms.

'I have come to see you. I am on my way to a judicial conference in New York and it worked out to combine the trip. I did know it was your wedding day actually. I was on the same plane from LA as the Stuart family. I know Rod rather well.' He smiled. 'They had a great time in Disneyland.

'It is a shame I don't have more time or I would have waited but then you're probably going away tonight anyway?' He noticed Mulder's nervous glance at his friends. He obviously didn't want them knowing where the honeymoon was taking place. He shrugged, an oddly casual gesture. 'I have something special I have to give to you.' He placed the box on the coffee table between them. 'I'll be pleased to give up the responsibility for it actually.'

Mulder stared at the box and then at the man. 'What is it?' he asked sounding a little awed. He swatted away Frohike's hands that were trying to button his shirt.

'You heard that my mother passed away in January?'

'Yes. I'm sorry. Tom let me know.'

'She was a good age,' the other man said. 'I think it was right. We miss her though.'

Mulder smiled in memory. 'Yes I'm sure.'

Mrs Mac's son indicated the box. 'She left you this.' He didn't let Mulder say anything. 'We've always joked about her will. She left this to a man who would come amongst us; an outsider who would be worthy of our greatest treasure; a man of great mana and courage who would free our ancestor to join the ranks of the dead. She called the man a warrior of the future.' McIlhenney ignored the incredulous looks of Mulder's friends and focused on the golden eyes that were fixed on his. 'She meant you Mr Mulder. Tom was sure of that. And now I have met you I am sure too.' He slid the box across the table. 'This is yours now. It will serve you well.'

Slowly Mulder reached out to touch the box. Looking up again for a moment to check that McIlhenney meant it he tore at the tape that sealed it. The cardboard opened to reveal wood shavings and when he reached in cautiously he felt, as he knew he would, a carved wooden box. Very carefully he lifted out the ancient treasure box and placed it on the coffee table. 'I can't take this,' he said quietly. 'This is a maori treasure. It doesn't belong here.'

McIlhenney leaned back in the chair and surveyed him. 'There are some who think that. Yes. I will make no secret of that. There was long and bitter debate among the family over what my mother had meant and whether she had any right to decide what should happen to the mere anyway. We had always thought it was so improbable for anyone to meet the criterion that the mere would just stay in the family. But then you came and mother said our ghost had gone. In the end Tom decided and I agreed to bring it to you. It was to be my decision.' He smiled, his solemn face changed by a wide white toothed grin. 'But in the end the decision was not mine at all.' He raised his eyebrows in question but Mulder didn't quite get it. 'It was Rangitu's decision Mr Mulder. You thought I was him.' He leant forward. 'He has never shown himself to anyone other than family before. But you had seen him. He had approved of you. How could I say otherwise.' He nodded at the wooden box. 'Open it Mr Mulder. It is a warrior's weapon. It has great power. I don't know why but my mother thought you would need it. It is yours.'

Mulder opened the box and lifted out the heavy greenstone weapon. He hefted it in his hand and turned it to the light. 'Oh my god!' He stared at it in awe. 'It's whole. The crack is gone.' He rubbed it with his finger and turned it over. 'It's whole. It's perfect. It's like it was never broken.' He raised his eyes to his visitor. 'How..?'

'Mum found it like that. After you left. It was the day she said that Rangitu had gone. She said he was at rest. She brought out the mere and it was complete.' He smiled and there was something foreign and ghostly in his dark eyes. 'You will have to protect it. I think it could easily break again.'

The visitor stood suddenly breaking the spell. 'Well Mr Mulder I'd better let you get dressed.' He was once again the urbane judge. 'I understand your intended would not be very forgiving if you were late for the service.'

'No.' Mulder gave himself a mental shake. He put the mere down carefully in its box and stood up. 'She wouldn't.' He gave a small laugh then suddenly his face was split by a huge grin. 'I don't want to be late myself.'

The two men shook hands. 'I wish you luck Mr Mulder,' the Maori man said as he walked away. They both knew he didn't just mean the wedding.

'Jeeze Mulder,' Frohike said in a rush as he shut the door. 'You are such a weird magnet. Now get a fuckin move on. I promised Scully I'd get you there and the way you're going she's gonna autopsy my balls.'

END

Author's notes (written as I went along and things occurred to me. Don't read it if you don't want to.)

Just a thought about why this sort of writing is so much fun and why so much of it is so good... When I was on holiday I picked up a book called "The Right to Write" by Julia Cameron. I highly recommend it, most of it anyway. At one stage she says about how gloriously liberating it is to write about what you want to write about, and that's what fan fiction is about isn't it? You can write whatever you want with no worries about whether or not it is saleable, whether or not an editor will like it. You can just write and what comes out are these wonderful stories. So to anyone who says to us, why do you write that stuff, that's not real writing… Of course it is. Any writing is real. You don't have to be making money at it to be a writer. So put that in your pipes and smoke it.

More notes as I think of them. The first rule of writing is to write what you know. That's why I brought M & S to New Zealand. Guess where I spent my holidays? Oh but there is no such place as Bush Bay to the best of my knowledge. The Marlborough Sounds and Kenepuru sound do exist and Bush Bay might look a little like St Omer where we went on holiday. Lovely place.

I started dreaming this story up while standing watching the Santa Parade with my husband and lovely kids. There is something funny with my head I think that allows me to come up with these sorts of scenarios at those sorts of events. I originally was picturing Mulder racing through the crowd trying to stop an abduction. Once I got seriously working on the story the time frame wouldn't fit. That's why that abduction occurred before they arrived.

Again, once I got started I came up with a policeman. Please forgive me any NZers out there. I picked on Rob Pope, who is a real Detective Inspector who does have a passing resemblance to Mitch Pellegi. I have a great deal of respect and liking for Rob, whose kids go to my kid's school and hope no one will take any offence. Once I created Rod Stuart however he and his family became fiction. They are my creations. However, because of my train of thought, and the fact that we spent the week before Christmas in the Sounds I couldn't help but come up with the real life murder mystery in the Marlborough Sounds that Rob Pope so ably investigated. I have used that scenario and have changed facts and names to suit my story, but any NZ readers are going to make the obvious connections with it. Again, no offence meant, and I believe the police got the right man and he did do what they said he did. I know I am playing with something deadly serious, but my justification is that that episode has now passed into folk law and is therefor in the public domain. There is also in my mind the thought that most readers of this will be American and unlikely to know anyone involved. The story fitted so well with my villain's motive.

I have since met someone called Rod Stuart but swear I didn't know him before I started writing this. I hope he won't mind me using his name.

If incidents such as the one I describe occurred on a flight from LA to Christchurch I am quite sure that the plane would divert. I covered that option by having Scully tell how the pilot offered them the option of diverting to Fiji. They probably would have flown straight to Auckland and taken approximately an hour off the flight but I ignored that because I wanted them in Christchurch.

I have tried to keep my New Zealand English to my NZ characters and tried to leave M & S speaking American. But as my knowledge of American English comes from watching (too much) TV, some things I write may read funny. Sorry. I did my best and sometimes my spell checker didn't know which way was up.

Medical stuff. Years ago now I was a Registered Nurse. I do remember some things and I think Mulder would probably be a lot sicker and in intensive care for longer than I describe. I like Mulder torture but this story did have a plot beyond that that needed moving along. So I let him get better but have the odd relapse just to twang at your heart strings. Scully's collapse the day Rod sent her to his home is quite realistic for "normal" people. Just because we expect Scully to be strong doesn't mean she is going to be every time.

Whales. I got all my information from Whale Watch Kaikoura's web site WWW.whalewatch.co.nz It's a good site. Check it out.

I get real sick of reading other people's variations on Mulder's thoughts on the 'why does Scully stay with me' question. It's so bloody obvious, she is as weird as he is. This has been so well covered by loads of others that I left all of that alone. I also didn't go into the 'why my life is a bowl of shit/oh god poor me I lost my sister' stuff. I just took that as a given and got on with the stuff I thought they would really be thinking about. The 'what now?' things. That's one thing about fan fiction. We all know the background stories. We don't have to re invent it each time. Hope you thought that went okay.

Date of the rape. This was a bit hard. I wanted it to be when Mulder was still young enough to have allowed himself to have been carried away like that. I felt it should also be directly before he went to Oxford for poetical reasons. According to the Timeline Project though there is a two year discrepancy between when he graduated high school - in 1980 which fit my story and starting college at Oxford in 1982. I don't know. It's only a story.

The legends - I made them up. My Maori names are borrowed from other maori folk heros. If you've heard of them don't get upset. It was hard to come up with names that sounded right and weren't too hard to spell or sound out. Oh if you didn't get it - Utu means revenge. An eye for an eye etc.

Finally I am finished. It has taken me fourteen months to write what seemed quite a small story when it was in my head. It was nearly all in my head before I started to write. I am very pleased with my efforts and very proud to offer it to you, the fan fic reader. I hope you enjoyed it. No one has checked it over for me so I hope all the "who did it" bits make sense. Write me if they don't .

I am pleased to leave this behind and move on to new projects. I actually plan to make money from writing this year. You may pick up a book one day and realise you recognise big chunks of the plot. Yes Utu has not been all wasted time. It is actually half the plot of a novel I am writing for "real". The characters will of course change.

Love to you all. Please write

Parrot


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